"That's... probably a good thing, isn't it." Not that that's something he's had to worry about before, but still. "And the same thing when we're, um, having sex, then?" He grins a little at the silly joke. 

"Yes. If we ever get up to anything really exciting I might have to explain some things, so it can tell the difference between when we need help and when we don't. But it's supposed to be pretty smart about that sort of thing."

"Oh." John suddenly realizes exactly what kinds of misunderstandings the house might have. "Um. How, um, smart is it exactly? I, um, we might get up to some exciting things, and um, well, the house is um, well it probably cares a lot more about your well being than me because you're the Blake, and um..." he trails off. 

"Smart enough! You don't have to worry. We might need to explain some things ahead of time, but it'll get the idea."

"It's um, probably a good idea if you explain things sooner rather than later," John says. "I don't want it to like, levitate me into the air and throw me against the wall if I, um, try and hurt you. For sex reasons that is." He's not sure if he's talking quietly out of embarrassment or out of worry over being overheard, but it's definitely at least one of those. (Or both! It could be both.) 

"What? It wouldn't do that. I told it to treat you as my betrothed. At most you might find yourself in an unexpected blanket burrito."

John giggles a little at the mental image. (Blanket burrito!) "Okay, that's better than what I was worried about, but still. I don't... want it to have a wrong or bad impression of me or something." (Actually, if she could explain things to the house that might help a lot, now that he thinks of it. Though hopefully the house doesn't think he's a weirdo or anything. He really wishes he could just... talk to it, properly.) 

"That makes sense! I can talk to it after dinner?"

"That works! And then we can go and do the um, ritual?" John grins a little, thinking about it (and maybe possibly gets a little hard thinking about it too). 

"Yes. —well, I have to do all the setup first. But yes."

"Right, yes. I have a book. And my phone. And can help if you can think of some way for me to help?" Though he's pretty sure at this point there isn't a good way for him to help, sadly. 

"Sitting and reading and maybe going over your lines one more time is the best help you can give me."

"Then I will do that!" He will read his book and go over his lines many more times, honestly. It's very important that he gets this right. Well, okay, not that important but he doesn't want to waste all of her effort. 

She beams at him and then takes another bite of delicious pie.

The pie is very delicious! It is also very nearly gone, unfortunately. There's a few more bites of flaky sauce-soaked crust and a deer chunk and some vegetables to go. He's almost sad to finish it off... but this is probably the first of lots of really good meals, isn't it. He takes a bite of vegetable and looks over to see how Rosy is doing with hers (and tries to think of more things to talk about). 

She's slower than he is again; she still has several bites left, and is happily savouring every one.

Then he might as well savor his. He doesn't need to come up with something to talk about right? Right?? 

(Right?) 

Unfortunately, all he can think to ask about is the ritual (which they've already talked about extensively) and sex things (which feels awkward to bring up, and extra awkward thinking about the house listening in even though the house supposedly doesn't mind). Which is a problem. Maybe if he eats another bite of pie he'll think of something else to say (Or Rosy will come up with something instead? Though really he should be figuring things out himself.) 

Rosy does not seem to feel the need to interrupt her pie!

Well, then it's on him to come up with something, he supposes. Food, maybe? The food has been a good topic. (Though it's probably getting worse the more he talks about it but he can't think of anything else to do...) "If the silverware is anything to go by, this is the last course, right?" John asks. "Or does it not work that way?" 

"Don't forget dessert! But otherwise yes."

"I wonder what it's going to serve," John says (noticing the well of this line of conversation has already run dry. Shit). "I guess we'll find out shortly. And you said that the food it serves is always this good?" (He's looking forward to it, if so.) 

"Absolutely!" Om nom pie. "Man, we really shouldn't open the gate at the new house that closes off the road leading here, but I want to, so I can more easily eat dinner here every night."

(The lights blush again.)

"Man, I also want to eat here every night, though if I did it would, um, it probably wouldn't be very good for me. Even if it would be a very delicious way to end up that way." It's probably not a good idea to eat food like this all the time, he'll get fat. Even if he might want to. He doesn't exercise nearly as much as he should already, and if he eats like this it would probably be much worse. 

"Huh?"

"I mean, like, if I ate like this all the time I would probably get kinda fat, you know?" Or, wait, does she know? Is he implying that she would get fat too? "I mean, for me, personally, I don't really exercise enough anyways and stuff, you know what I mean? Like it's ok to be doing this now" though really he's probably eating more than he should but whatever "but I probably shouldn't eat like this all the time. Or even most of it? Even if I want to?" (What is that look on her face he's probably done something wrong even though she doesn't look mad at him or anything.)