Much nodded in satisfaction at a meal well done, at being able to be the one to feed her after the ordeal she'd been through. Okay... multiple ordeals, Lucifer, then Easter. He remembered losing track of her last year, too, though they didn't know each other so well, then, they hadn't seen so much of each other's messiness, but even then he had a sense of what Easter meant to her. Did to her.
He thought about running with the joke and continuing to brush it off, the whole hero thing. But maybe he'd just eat, for a minute, dipping the crusty edge of garlic bread into the lasagna to soak up some of the meat and cheese.
It was good to just eat, sitting at Mary's side. When he was being quiet, just now, he didn't feel like he was forcing anything, or trying to be anything, just a guy eating, just a guy feeding a girl who'd been through a whole thing.
Much hadn’t forgotten how he’d felt after his breakdown, after she'd gathered him back into the van and told him he wasn't irredeemable; it felt like his soul had been scrubbed clean like a new potato under a wire brush. Painful and vulnerable, but clean. Being with Mary since then, and being quiet with Mary just now, that’s how he felt. Like she could make him clean in a way no one else could.
"You were kinda my hero that night too," he said eventually, carefully watching his fork sink in through the layer of pasta. "Just saying."