"For both of us, technically." That he compulsively pokes a hole in that bubble speaks to the little bit of intimacy that does exist in food preparation for Jack. It's a more normative gesture in his society than Balthier's, certainly, but his life hasn't been normal; he's had an army of chefs at his beck and call since he was old enough to eat solid food. Jack has never needed to cook, doing so has simply been a matter of pride and, perhaps more importantly, connection with his father. (Cooking steaks at midnight was the last meal he shared with the man, in fact. He'd forgotten. He seems heavier for a moment, but it passes.)

"Don't expect a feast, I just pulled a few things out of the fridge." Heading back toward the kitchen, he gestures to the bar-style seats perpendicular to the stove. "Come, sit while I finish, you look like you're about to fall over."