She starts to smile, small but sincere, and offer to cook him dinner...and then her expression flickers back into neutral stillness.

She isn't quite sure if she has enough in her section of the kitchen for herself, let alone someone else.

"There are a couple restaurants here," is what she ends up with. "Shall we go see if one has a table free?"

The idea of going out makes her rib-cage tighten (people, people, people and their damn sympathy), but if given a choice between that, and admitting she cannot be a proper hostess, well.

No one ever accused Nataliya Alianovna of lacking in pride.