"To be honest," he admitted. "We have so many kinds of china, I wouldn't know the good from the bad." He offered a shrug, not bothering to look abashed. "I know how to use twelve different kinds of utensil, and any dish or glass you put in front of me, but I couldn't tell you which is more appropriate for which occasion." Bruce smirked. "And I really don't care." There were things he had to know, which were important to his work, and things which were completely unnecessary. That was one of them.
Bruce looked down again, his faint smile just verging on embarrassed. "Yes, I suppose that's quite true," he murmured.
Grinning, he took the keys out of his pocket and offered them to her. "Sure." Something honest, but hard to described, passed over his face before he said, "I trust you."