He sets the food on the counter, glancing over at her souvenirs. It feels nice that she wants to remember this place. Maybe even him- though, that might be wishful thinking. He's still so unsure about himself, about her, about his place in the world, even aside from what it has to do with her.

"It was," he says quietly, picking at some cheese as well, taking the snowball cup to sip from it. He needs to write these memories down as soon as he can. He doesn't ever want to forget.

When she places the spoon beside his arm, he looks at her, then down at the spoon. He reaches over with his right hand to lift it up. "Thank you. I'll keep this with me always."