"I could think of worse things to talk about," Delaney said, leaning in a little more. She wondered, idly, if the drinks were beginning to affect Maeve at all.
"It's not like I'm a gourmet cook," she admitted. "There are a couple of things I can make, and make well - my spaghetti sauce has received rave reviews. It's one of the only things Nico will finish a place of. I've seen him lick his plate, a couple of times."
The platter of food between them was beginning to look a bit sad and empty, the two of them having been picking at it for a while now. "Perhaps..." she hesitated. She didn't want to be too forward, and ruin all the progress they had made that evening. "Perhaps I could make it for you... I could show you how...?"