Oh, those cats. They're always meowing at his heels! Cedric carries the bag of breadsticks and sauce in, arranging them in a neat little circle on the plate. That's the strange dance they do, pulling together nice meals and awkwardly eating beside each other every night.

It's going to drive Cedric up the wall tonight, because now he has a name for those silly feelings he's sometimes felt when looking at Howard over a pizza slice. He'd better look away before he starts turning red.

They settle at the table soon enough. Cedric nibbles on a breadstick, dropping his hand to let the cats lick the sauce off his finders when he's finished. Same as every week. He absentmindedly scratches behind their ears, focusing on what he can possibly say. He has to confess. He still doesn't have the perfect script for it.

"...yeah. It's just not the easiest thing in the world to say." That's the understatement of the year.