"How about cooking first, TV after, and cards last." Ned knows he'll have to get up to make Ginsberg dinner, and he's actually happy about having a task, something to focus his mind on, someone to be with him. But that means moving out of his arms, and he's reluctant to do that. So he clings for just a minute more before, with a squeeze of gratitude, he pulls away, nods in the direction of the kitchen, wordlessly asking Ginsberg to follow.

Once they're there he starts pulling things from the cabinets, glad of the activity. As he does, he finds himself saying, "At the school I'd sneak out of bed all the time to cook at night. Most of the time I made pies, but I taught myself to make other stuff, too. This is a recipe I came up with when I was like, thirteen. Don't worry, though," Ned darts a glance over his shoulder, smiles, "It's good. You'll like it."