One of the few benefits of being past his prime was that Miller didn't easily get embarrassed any more. He was aware of Ray's blush - he was always aware of those - and the danger of spillage from his sandwich, and he apologized for neither.
Getting the hang of how to eat the sub without getting sauce everywhere was not so difficult with his long fingers, but it was still challenging enough that for a couple of minutes, conversation faltered. Miller didn't need a teenager's acute fear of losing face to know that was rude. "I'm sorry," he apologized, setting down the sandwich and reaching for a napkin. "It's too good." Ray had thought of everything: delicious food, napkins, even drinks.
Miller opened one of the cans. "Do your friends know you can cook like this? I'm impressed they're not showing up every night for dinner." He knew they weren't since that was usually when he got to enjoy Ray's company, a privilege he was in no rush to discard.