The offer to sit in her spot is met with all the appropriate reverence — to be honest, for a second there he thinks it's like a trick, or some kind of test. He's tentative about it, uncertain, but ultimately does slowly lower himself down at the very edge of the space, leaving ample room for her. He watches with keen interest as she fashions up a makeshift cupcake separator — truly impressive display of ingenuity there — and then obediently takes the smaller half as declared by Apology Cupcake Laws.

He doesn't eat it until she's in place, until after elbows have been jostled and limbs have been appropriately arranged. When they finally settle, it's with her left arm up against his right, his cast-arm tucked into his lap atop his book, and his cupcake hovering patiently somewhere around chest-height.

He'll take a bite after she does. It seems like the right thing to do.

After he swallows, he figures maybe... talking might be okay. Probably a good idea. Only one topic really comes to mind —

"What are you reading?"