Claire would never complain about coffee. She may grimace a little, but where she grew up, specifically Vatican City, had spectacular espressos that were from the best of the best beans gifted to His Holiness from the Ethiopian Orthodox Tewahedo Church. It was safe to say that regular coffee never stood much of a chance. Nonetheless, Claire was happy for the refill, and the coffee had gotten better since the first time she came in. She was even drinking it black now, instead of cutting the flavor with cream and sugar.
"Tablespoon," she repeated, her confusion was apparent in flash of grey eyes before she broke out in a cackling laugh. "Ohhhh, your measuring cups." A shake of her head dropped long brown hair around her face as she leaned over the paper to fill in the answer. Different cooking weights and measures had never been part of her training. Knowing sixteen tablespoons to a cup? That would never be something she'd use. Besides, why did the United States have to change everything to some ridiculous measurement? They should use litres and grams like the rest of the world. Savages.
"Too long. Hours." Claire grinned as she looked back up from the puzzle into that warm smile that brightened up her mornings, "The wordplay can be tricky sometimes." People like Max were the people she was fighting for, and the people she envied so very much. He made her feel normal. Not many people did that for her in her life. "It helps when there are people to ask, but you," she pointed the eraser end of the pencil at him with a smirk, "You make it easy."
Another sip of the hot coffee, "It's good. The coffee. And the pink. I like the pink." She put the mug down and rested her chin in her hand again as she looked across the counter, "Were you a wordsmith before a chef?"