K holds onto Mango until she's calmed down enough not to wiggle right out of his hands in her attempts to lick Jesus's face, then sets her down to let her run around to sniff every inch of carpet.

He glances at the table and his smile widens; it might be simple, but K doesn't mind at all. He's just grateful.

"Thank you," he says, earnest, and makes sure the door closes behind him.

"I'm... Good. Okay. How are you?" He's trying to resort to reading people automatically less. He's trying to be more fair.