"Exactly." There's mischief in his smile. That same sense of play that had him cracking jokes under pressure that night.

He considers pushing again into talk about work, redirecting the conversation into territory he usually prefers to tread...but Jayce had been quite open with him. He feels inclined to, at the very least, let his new partner in just a little more.

Reaching into his satchel, he pulls out a very worn thermal flask, rubbed to bare steel in the spots where hands tend to sit. Uncapping the cup-lid, he pours the steaming white contents into it, offering it out to Jayce. It's opaque and frothy, flecked with and smelling of spices.

"Since you brought lunch, I'll give you something new to try. Here. This recipe is...well, it is all I have of my mother. I don't know if you will have had it before."