Taco Bell won't cut it, after this
Bruce didn't mind Greer sneaking tastes, but she seemed to get such a big kick out of doing it and then reacting to when she was caught, he made a point to exaggerate his own reactions whenever he saw her popping a fragment of something into her mouth. It was a game he had fun playing as much as she did, and at one point he told her, "As a chef, I take that as a complement." Throughout the cooking, Bruce had only nursed his half-glass of wine, finishing the last of it just before they were ready to dine.
At the table, Bruce teased Greer, "I'm sure we could've done more, but then we'd have to go to your neighbors to borrow their dishes and bowls. An adventure..." he nodded. "I like that. Thank you for helping. And thank you for letting me cook. It's been a while since I've done anything like this." It felt normal, and that's what Bruce craved the most. That is, despite the fact that his dining partner was half-cat, which was certainly not normal.
Tasting their creation, Bruce ate heartily, for unlike Greer, he refrained from sneaking tastes, except to check if he put enough salt and such. "Probably not much," Bruce replied to her question. "As you know, the Helicarrier has been docked near New York City for repairs and modifications, so I won't be traveling around all over the place for some time. I've requested housing arrangements outside of the city, but I've yet to hear from SHIELD about that. So who knows? Maybe next time I'll be cooking at my place?"
Having a place of his own to settle for a while that wasn't some ramshackle cabin in some foreign country, or underneath a bridge or in some homeless shelter while wandering from one area to another, always on the run and never making any attachments... the thought made him cheerful. Maybe he could make it work?
"It can't be next week, though. SHIELD's told me I'm going on an assignment, but in typical SHIELD fashion, they can't tell me where or when or for how long until ... I don't know... until I'm actually there."