Casey's wry grin sprang back.  She'd teach him to bake.  He could picture it now, him in some stained apron, with flour everywhere, and her scolding him for the mess he'd made.  Maybe it wouldn't be so onerous a duty, this marriage.  They seemed to be getting on well.  With luck, it would be no more difficult than rooming with a friend.  "I'd like that, I think.  I make the best steak you'll ever eat, guaranteed."  He glanced around in search of their order.  "I'd have invited you for a cookout if I'd thought we could get the publicity we need.  And if I thought your mother wouldn't suspect something untoward."  He shrugged, apologetically.<br/><br/>The subject of finding housing had Casey's chest expanding in a ponderous sigh.  "Right.  A place to live.  I hadn't even thought of that.  There's my family home as well.  I don't suppose that's a good idea though, with politics sitting they way they are.  I suppose we could get a new place together.  It would certainly be slightly symbolic.  A new life, and a new home."  He suggested, gauging the woman's reaction as he lifted his whiskey for another sip.  He set the tumbler down again, and leaned back in his chair.  "Personally, I'd like a place that's not in the city.	Too much noise.  Too little security.  It'd take me a whole year to ward the house as well as I'd like without stepping on someone else's toes."<br/><br/>He stopped again, when the waitress returned, this time with their meals on a tray.  The eagerness in his eyes was earnest when the steak settled before him, and his stomach let out a gurgle of glee.  A morning spent at the hospital hadn't allowed for a decent breakfast.   After the waitress dropped off their food, he continued as if she hadn't interrupted.  "I think I'll enjoy that.  We can have it under a full moon.  The next one's midway through next month.  Maybe it's silly, but I always feel that ventures taken under the full moon are blessed.  A good omen."  He said, rolling his eyes.  Though he was a rather talented wizard, Casey Murphy was something of a skeptic when it came to blessings and omens.  Despite himself.<br/><br/>"Do you have any burning desires?  A quaint suburb, a flat downtown, a loft?  A grand old house?"  He paused once more to drain the last of his whiskey, and took up fork and knife, eyeing his food eagerly.  Only propriety kept him from taking the slab of meat in hand to tear into with his teeth.