Okay, Charlie, you like his pie, you can stay. The corner of Ned's mouth quirks up into a smile at the foul-mouthed but clearly heart-felt compliment. He waits for Charlie to be done chewing and then walks with him back to the couch and the bottle. It's a bit more of a relief than he'd like to admit to be sitting down again.

"What kinds of bigger stuff?" Ned asks, politely. Meyer hadn't mentioned any future business plans to him, but then, perhaps it had seemed too depressing to him. That whatever he'd been hoping for was interrupted by this unasked for stay by the sea.

Ned meanwhile has another sip of his whiskey, eats a small bite of his slice of apple. It's nice, being able to eat his own pies for once, without the fruit rotting inside. He spends so much time making pies for other people that he forgets, sometimes, to make it for himself.