"I've had jello before," he teased. But Eliot indulged her. She was royalty and he'd experienced an assassination attempt before. She may or may not have had magical precautions to help her in that department. He took a small scoop out of the molded jello with a spoon and swallowed it down.
"It's jello. There's not really good jello or bad jello. It's all pretty much the same-- unless someone attempts to turn it into a salad around a holiday feast. Trust me, jello salad is the worst."
There was a second spoon. Eliot did not offer her the clean spoon or the one he used, in case she was concerned about the spoon itself. He would not give her a hard time for being paranoid. A little paranoia in the hotel was very healthy.