[He pulls out two apples, busies himself cleaning and coring them. Food seemed as safe a first bet as any. The confidence he should have at knowing her, guessing at what she wants from him, isn't what it should be, but he will trust her to understand if over-thinking steers him wrong.]
Baked apples, then? It won't take long. [His spices have remained untouched thankfully, and he gets to grinding up cinnamon, nutmeg, and cloves with his fist. He adds sugar to hers unthinkingly, as he's focused on the settling silence hovering between them and whether she's as comfortable as he is with it.]
[A few pads of butter and he sticks them in the microwave, which has to be the greatest thing ever invented... other than the washing machine.]
I cleared things up with Raven. [He's not initiating a discussion to much as -- clearing that up. So she needn't give it another thought. He makes tea while that sinks in, back still to her.]