Oh. Thank God he's off the hook for now. And maybe if intercourse after breakfast is still on the table (so to speak) he can use that as an opportunity to further make up for this awkwardness.

Though already he doesn't feel very charitably towards Molly's mother, as something tells him she hasn't written much poetry about or for her daughter.

But right now, right this moment, Molly's mother is God-knows-where and Molly herself is right here.

This time he takes her hand, thumb brushing over the backs of her knuckles.

"I'm aware it might be rude to ask if you'd rather talk about something else, but it seems disingenuous to pretend you aren't uncomfortable, and--this has all been really good so far."