“Well, as long as you can admit that you're a smug bastard, and a show off, then I suppose I can look past all of that long enough to enjoy this mythological real food with you.” She grinned to him as she nodded, and then she looked down at the floor by her desk. Real food meant having shoes on, whether she liked it or not. And at least she found them easily. There was no rummaging around. Purple socks slipped into black shoes and she piled up the parchment in at least some semblance of a neat order. “If you teach me the spell once it's brilliant, and it saves me time for paperwork...I may actually have enough time to cook real food and bring it into the office for nights like this.”