"Hey, come in, come in," Gus urged. His place hadn't changed, of course, except that there was a fairly decent selection of baking supplies on the counter, "I've got eggs and milk in the fridge, too," he said, offering to take her coat for her, "You want a beer or anything?"
He had balked at the idea privately while she wasn't here, but he really couldn't keep treating her like she was his adopted daughter. She was an adult, a grown woman, and she could have a beer and still drive home.
"My DVD collection is on yonder shelf, I'm sure you've noticed," he said, "I was thinking Die Hard. That's a good baking movie, right?"