If he had a dollar for every time he did that very thing to himself--knowing something was hot but touching it (or worse, sticking it in his mouth) anyway--he'd be rich. Much good that would be at this point, but the sentiment still stood.
"My grandma as well. I must have burned my mouth on hot food a hundred times." Pizza. That had always been the worst. There was something irresistibly dangerous about hot cheese. He gave her a smile and nod in the way of a 'you're welcome' and gave the donuts in the pot a turn. Almost done. He'd have to whip up some more if he wanted to serve them at an actual meal, but maybe he could throw them in a few friendly directions--friends, helpful doctors, etc.
"Not much to see here anymore, is there?" He said wryly. "Austin used to be the place to be. I guess it still is, in a way."
His eyebrows crept up his forehead when Bunny said she was from Kentucky. It wasn't that he hadn't heard of people being here from all kinds of places, but that didn't stop it from being interesting each time. "That's a ways." He reached out to take the fork from her and popped the rest of the donut in his mouth. The honey glaze was nice, but maybe a bit of an overkill for him. Maybe he'd split it 50/50 as far as glazed and not glazed.