Say what you will about Hawk, he knows how to accept an offered hand. There's a small exhale of defeat and he slows his roll in setting up the plates.

"Thanks. You just- you caught me at a bad week. Got some bad news from home. I appreciate it- here," Hawk makes his way over to the kitchen to rifle through his cupboards.

"Got some pasta and some tinned tomatoes. No prize for guessing what we're gonna make out of that- next time let me buy you dinner, alright? Something nicer. If there's a next time- I know I haven't exactly been making a strong case for myself but I promise I'm just wearing out the pitcher's arm. Next hit is a home run."