It's probably for the best that he doesn't catch that smile. As soon as he consciously realizes he's making it, Meyer smooths it over, turns it into something resembling a look between understanding and concern. "Does that mean you can never touch that woman again, then? Given how the, uh, ability functions? It'd kill her, right?"

He's not sure why he feels the need to absorb so much information about Ned's ability. Unlike cooking, it's not something he'll ever be able to learn how to do himself -- he imagines Ned was born with it, that it's something innate, or perhaps other people in Ned's world are capable of it, too. A trait inherited from parents, maybe, or something random. He vaguely wonders whether there are people in his own world who can do this sort of thing, and finds the idea somewhat strange.