Cam is dipping a grilled cheese sandwich into a bowl of tomato soup when he feels the summons. He goes ahead and grabs it. Doesn't even drop the sandwich.
"Very well. Scientists hopped up on long-term-unsustainable combinations of stimulants are devouring appetizer platters and reading future medical texts as we speak. How are you doing?"
"So I can interrupt you before I go do the same thing in another language?"
Cam sits next to her and puts a wing around her. Unless she looks really surprised or something: kiss?
Yup. Cam is not in an overwhelming hurry; he assumes there is some tradeoff to be made between the Americans finding any hurdles to be found in getting his bequeathal out into the world so he can refine his pitch and getting the other hemisphere their shot at the information. He's going to assume this tradeoff is such that he can spend however long he likes taking a breather. Or a not-so-much-breathing-er, as the case may be.
Cam is not trying to be reserved about which spots those are at all. Although if he gets a little too unreserved about it he may have to suggest that they retire to her place.
Oh good. That is, assuming she wanted a whimpery demon draped over her.
He is not wearing a shirt! That's not really why, but it is an entirely welcome side effect.