[ Just the answer he expects, setting aside the grater and a lump of ginger root. Chloe bills herself as the best driver in the business and she is, but so much more besides. A jack of all trades and master of more than a few of them— The more she demonstrates as such, the more Rafe wonders why the hell he's never hired her on before. Ah, well — problem's since been rectified. ]

Be a little pathetic otherwise, don't you think? [ Scoffing at her surprise, he moves the sauce off the heat before damping the flame. ] A grown man who can't feed himself, with a fridge full of stale takeout containers... Talk about your sad cliche.

[ The other cliche, the one of a butler with a snooty accent serving silver and tea, isn't worth mentioning. So he doesn't.

In less time than it takes to tell, he pulls the noodle mixture out the oven, already fragrant with sesame oil before pouring the thicker sauce over it. The apron proves unnecessary given the precision involved — not a drop spilled, thank you — as he begins to toss the bowl for an even coat. A last handful of chopped peanuts and cilantro and it's done. Plates are grabbed and he sets himself on a stool at the island, an expansive gesture at the bowl for Chloe to help herself. The kitchen is still warm but that'll dissipate soon enough, and the table proper isn't far enough away that it'd make any difference. ]

There's silverware in the drawer, or chopsticks if you're feeling traditional.