Hmm. Well, I do have a place I like. It's Western... Italian fusion, I think it's called. Maybe you've been there already?

[ probably for the best about the little joke. He doesn't have any particular desire to get punched by her, and he is just as well able to guess what that would result in. It's not a night on which there should be any particular reason to need a reservation or something.

He's really very grateful that this is going so well, so low-drama. Her affections are understated, but nevertheless clear--not that her saying so isn't enough given what she's like. Idly, his thumb traces along the side of her finger entwined with his, before he moves to let go (one can't walk the whole way holding hands, right? Well, unless she wants to).]

If you're hungry, we can go now.