"Why did you trick me into falling asleep before I could get dinner?" Jamie grumbled. "I wasn't--I'm always in charge of dinner!" he protested as he came down slowly to see the den table set with plates and the floor arranged with pillows.

"I think a nice, informal kneeling dinner would be lovely," Barba called from the kitchen, where he was setting out glasses. "Pizza, wings, garlic knots, churros, and sodas are incoming."