"I think that sounds reasonable," he temporized, nodding - he didn't mind doing the dishes if she cooked for him, after all, and he'd be happy to do it so she wouldn't have to, not after she would have worked hard on something for them to eat. "And much safer than having me try to cook, I can promise you that."

"Hm... could be," he mused, when she said he'd played sports himself; it made sense, after all, though he had to laugh when she said he'd deemed the new writer no good. "Oh - well then maybe I'd better go back there and tell them I can save their paper... just as soon as I remember how awfully good I was." He gave her a conspiratorial smile, though it was still a little pleased that she thought his writing was good. "Though maybe I ought to practice a little, first. I think I'd be rusty even if I felt like I knew what I was doing. Maybe I need a good editor to point me in the right direction..." And maybe she'd be willing to do it, though of course he wouldn't want to force her to do something that might be difficult, emotionally.