Watching as Newt begins to pace, only just barely keeping any trace of amusement from his expression, Chuck closes the door behind them — though not before waving to the woman across the hall — and heads over to the couch, sitting on it sideways, his feet propped up on the cushions. It really shouldn't be funny, he knows that, and he's still a little annoyed about Newt shouting for help as he came up to the door, but he can't help it anyway. For a man who helped save the world to now be this lost when it comes to something as theoretically simple as dating definitely falls within the realm of things he could laugh at.

Then again, it might just be the only reaction he knows how to have when he's sure he wouldn't be any better off if their positions were reversed, and doesn't take well to that sort of self-consciousness.

"Well, first of all, you might want to think about buying some more clothes," he says, brow arched. "You keep wearing the same thing, she's bound to notice eventually. Second —" he cuts himself off, mouth twisting in obvious confusion. He still doesn't have the first idea why Newt is here at all, let alone how to help him, but the latter is an admittance he hasn't quite worked up to yet. "Do you even know how to cook?"