Ned listens to Ginsberg chattering, smile never diminishing, waiting for him to pause for a breath. When he does stop, Ned says, "Black's fine. As for pants, you can if you want to, but I don't think there's any particular hurry, unless you've got someplace you have to be."

Sipping at his mug, he eyes Ginsberg with appreciation. He's more awake, after his shower, and pleasant little memories from the night before are drifting through his head like a particularly dirty movie. Ned's glad he stayed the night, glad he's here this morning to have coffee and ramble at him in that nervous way of his. "I'd like to know more about you, too."

Because if Ginsberg had wanted this to be a one-off thing, Ned would be alright with that. Not happy, but... used to it. Resigned. The fact that he doesn't seem inclined in that direction, that he's not ashamed of himself or angry or condescending the next morning, are all marks in his favor.

"Breakfast?"