in the kitchen, cooking; open reception
"Maybe we should've had you over earlier, get started then, while Ruby was out buying enough wine to get the dwarves drunk." And she had, pretty much.
She didn't rightly mind the waiting, she wasn't exactly starving, not really. It just seemed like something to ask instead. She wasn't about to rush it all and have half-cooked pasta and sauce. That'd be a terrible impression on James and just about everyone else there. And Jefferson likely wouldn't let it be served like that anyway.
Leaning into the brush of knuckles, still not entirely over the soft affectionate touches, revelling in the contact more than anything, Emma murmured slightly, "Breakfast was toast, there was a salad or something for lunch. And my coffee." Before patrol for an hour and then home early.
Shifting less to perch her head on his shoulder, Emma draped an arm around Jefferson's waist, standing to his back while letting him carry on with dinner because ruining it would be a no. "I don't think I ever learned that virtue though."