Tristan rolled up his sleeves, making a face - although he had never minded getting messy, at least not very much. "That sounds - well, it sounds better than the one where they run into the street to get chased by bulls, anyway. There must be something in the water thereabouts." He edged in beside her at the sink to wash up, smiling down at her with a not-very-well concealed excitement. "How do we take the water out, exactly? Does it involve mashing? I'm not bad at mashing."
And hopefully he wasn't utterly useless at making pasta sauce, either, but he imagined he could redeem himself through creatively arranged macaroni collages. Sometimes you just got lucky. "Have you traveled much?" he asked, as he began pushing through the next steps at cooking, preferably without any glaring errors that would render their dinner inedible. "I've never been to Spain at all."