There's that look again, but it's tempered by the fact that he's distinctly trying not to grin. Yeah, this is much better than emotions talk, and the more banter that's exchanged, the easier it is to shove everrything back into the neat little corner of his mind where he can forget about it.

Don't get between a hulking space marine and his food though, that's just asking for trouble right there. As he passes to grab things for her, one hand shoots out to flip her hair into her face;there's a snort of amusement that follows.

A minute or so later, the bottle of juice is hucked into her lap as well, albeit carefully so that it hopefully doesn't spill. The beer is left in the fridge, and really he has no room to judge the contents. His own apartment is pretty much baren, after all. Cooking is hard.