It's overcast, which means James doesn't have to be all "careful" while walking around outside, so he can in fact just walk around outside! It's nice to do that every now and then. And then there are a couple of packages he's expecting so he might enjoy this lovely unsunny day to visit the Post Office, why not.
"That doesn't sound like a bad idea at all!"
"It doesn't," murmurs Yvette, a little shyly.
"But we'll only find out if what I cooked is any good by eating it, so, shall we?"
Yvette snorts, then tries the dinner. Can her vampire boyfriend actually cook?
He might actually qualify as a five star chef, to be honest. This is probably the best meal either of them has ever had in their lives.
Yvette considers this.
"You're going to be smug about this for weeks, aren't you," she says, around her second forkful.
"Nonsense, dearest. If I cook you dinner more often it will last much longer than that."
His mate huffs a little surprised half-laugh, too delighted to actually come up with any kind of verbal response. She attempts to cover this lack of witty reply with a third bite of food.
James grins and dutifully eats the thing that passes as food for humans.
He nods. "Yeah. I've been living here for a long time, now, though, and I have not really settled before here so you might as well say I'm not from any particular place."
Yvette smiles a little into her food, then disguises this with another bite.
He looks at Yvette and raises his eyebrows. What has she shared...?
She notices the look and assists!
"There was a bit of a hiccup with some of his letters. James helped sort it out, actually, dad. That was, um. How we met."
"Oh!" Her father blinks, and then smiles warmly. "Thank you! We were very worried for a while there. Glad someone knew how to sort it all out. I've always hated bureaucracy, especially multinational bureaucracy, all of the conflicting rules and requirements from different places. This place wants this paper and stamp, that this other place doesn't even acknowledge, but you can get a stand-in if you just send a letter to this location to ask for this paper from this person who's only there on Tuesdays. Infuriating. Never my specialty, I don't have the patience or the people skills. Now, my wife..." He trails off, and the smile becomes melancholy and forced. "... Much better at handling it all." He looks away. "Anyway."