It occurs to Jim as he's clearing the table of their plates that coming out and admitting he's head over heels in love with the conjurer is probably less embarrassing than what he's about to do. But embarrassment Jim can deal with, and he's still not...well. He's afraid to admit the former.

"I really seriously can't cook." He calls back to Felix as Jim disappears into the kitchen to get dessert for them. "Verity did most of this!" He hollers--making a point that Felix doesn't need to come in here for a minute or anything. Jim snatches up the PADD from the counter and closes out of the meal prep instructions Verity has written out bullet point style for him and starts looking up classical poetry.

Wow a lot of this is stuffy and artsy and Jim blanches.

Okay. okay. He can do this. There's a short one that doesn't compare women-flesh to fruit or other weird things. Poem selected, the PADD is tucked into his inner suit pocket and dessert is fetched.

The baked apples were about the only part of this meal Jim actually cooked himself, using an old recipe his grandmother had always made for him when she was still alive. Somehow, sharing a good family memory with Felix feels more intimate than anything else. Lord knows he's seen a sliver of the bad already.