Wait, what? She didn't answer his question. Clearly she doesn't want to. His brain unhelpfully chips in with the fact that she was awfully cute cleaning her glasses, something he solidly ignores before the blush on his face starts stirring.

Too late.

"Well, um," he says, and clears his throat. "The latkes are ready, so..." He turns to the bar, and orders a plate of pineapple and cheese, too, which he nudges to her. "So we should probably eat them."