She eyes the chair warily, but shuffles over to sit in it. It takes a slow and careful sinking down into the chair before she's able to make herself comfortable. Sighing once she's able to find a position that's remotely tolerable, she looks over to him with an attempt at a smile.

"We could order something," she suggests, not wanting him to feel like he needs to get up and make something for her. "Or I could make sandwiches." She's become obsessed with more American things like peanut butter and jelly or grilled cheese sandwiches. Apparently they're for children, but she absolutely loves them.