"Then please step inside," John suggested as he slid the outside door open, turning from the topic of his future to something way more pleasant: his present. And while he shot Bobby a brief Look, he didn't comment on the thwap. Gracious was practically his middle name, fucker.

"Bobby here has kindly set the table for Chez Allerdrake," and there was a carafe of tap water on the table, and a bottle of wine in the refrigerator just in case. Shaking his head, he stepped through the door himself, to place his dish on a trivet on the table. "I really never thought I'd be one of those people," he muttered. Cutesy names were not really his thing. "But Bobby has brought out the 'annoyingly cutesy tool' side of me." He gestured at the spread on the table: not just what he'd been grilling, but a fresh garden salad, some bread rolls and butter just in case, and mustards and ketchup and sauces of all kinds.

"Help yourself, Em." John was busy pouring out glasses of water for each of them, and giving Bobby a quick peck on the cheek as he came inside.