The familiar in-jokes drew a shake of John's head at the first, a look saying all he needed to on the topic of who was the more accomplished athlete in the house, and then a snort of laughter as the second. John paused briefly to turned, reach out and mess up her hair with a playfully light 'shut it' before resuming his cooking. The banter was easy, natural and clearly affectionate; to the outsider, it would be crystal clear that this home had no shortage of not only love but good humor. John was sure that if anything would see him to his old age, it would be that joy in his life.
"I'll pick you up," he said in answer to her question, sliding the eggs on another plate and then poking at the bacon. He liked his crispy, nearly burnt, one of his concessions to having a relatively healthy diet that was interspersed with the expected comfort and junk foods for the right occasion, like popcorn for movies and pizza for having friends over, fancy, rich, too-expensive food for special occasions and gallons of ice cream for the pains of growing up female without a mother.
"And we can swing by the video store," he finished. "We haven't raided the action section since last month, so we can grab one of those funny as heck disaster movies with all the good special effects and absolutely no believability."
Next thing John knew, they'd be making a movie about man-eating Los Angeles buildings or something crazy like that.