Andrew almost forgot himself. Almost. In the end it was the drawn-out "ahhh" that saved him, a verbal space-filler until his brain could restart. "Morning. I'm glad I made a good pick; sometimes there's too much milk."
It was the accent that had thrown him - like something from a summer trip as a teen, not the sort of thing he'd expect in Duskwood. In spite of himself, he smiled a little. "If you have breakfast ideas, I'm open to them. I mean, I suppose you can't go wrong with coffee cake--"
But it wasn't much of a meal, and making his own judgment call wouldn't keep the conversation going, would it?