"Ice cream," he repeats, licking his lips thoughtfully. Almost like it's taking him a long time to remember what that is. Really he's just lost wondering when the last time a woman was even in his apartment... "Do I have ice cream." He rises to his feet, and waves for her to follow. When she does she'll be treated to his very special ~ice cream freezer~ at the back of the pantry. What did you think that was for, meat? Stupid.

"Pick your poison, Potts." His hand braces on her arm for a second while they share the limited closet space. Since he doesn't cook a lot, there's mostly canned and boxed goods like you might find in a military bunker. End of the world emergency ready meals and the whole thing. "I have all the fixings, too. You're a gummy bears and hot fudge kind of girl, aren't you?