Sam would have assured the man that he hadn't been wasting his time at all, that a friendly face was almost always appreciated, but the bloke had just kept on talking, and once Sam had finished translating everything, he realised he was being offered jam. Real jam. Not "jelly."
"Uh, yeah," he said after a slight hesitation while he digested the information. "That'd be brilliant. I'll pay you though. For, uh, one jar?" Because he probably couldn't afford both. But he hated being given things; it felt too much like unwanted charity. "Strawberry is perfect, actually." He didn't care, really. He wasn't a fussy eater, really. The only reason he'd grabbed grape was because he'd had strawberry last time. But the difference between the store bought jar and a homemade one should be wonderful, and enough to not make him think he'd still eating the same thing.