“Yes I can!” Lexie responded determinedly, and probably a little more enthusiastically than someone really should be about setting the table. “I happen to be an expert table-setter. You can ask my parents. I have references.” She flitted around the kitchen gathering up plates and silverware, proving that she did, in fact, know where everything was. Even though she hadn’t actually eaten at Eisen before it was a testament to how well she knew the apartment that she could easily find the glasses and napkins et cetera without much difficulty. Although she tried to stay out of Eisen’s way while he was at the stove, she couldn’t help but standing on her tiptoes to look over his shoulder at the pasta he was stirring, her chin just brushing against the top of his shoulder as she craned to see.
Her eyes sparkled at the sight of the simmering mixture and she took a deep breath of its scent. “You’re such a good cook, Eisen,” she told him, turning her head a little to smile at him before she backed away to put the plates on the table and fold the napkins into cool little shapes. “And yes! I would ask how you know, but I’m sure you wouldn’t tell me. You and your detail-oriented memory.” Then again, Lexie was pretty detail-oriented too, at least on the things that she really, really cared about. A perfectionist to the core (in some respects) she’d been known to play the same piece for hours and hours until she’d gotten it just right. People would often ask her how she could stand the repetition, but Lexie had never really minded so much. The important thing was to get it right.
Opening the sodas, Lexie poured them each carefully into their glasses and set them down at each place before casting about for something else to do. “More things?” she asked him hopefully.