Giving her a sidelong smile at her retort, Rumlow keeps her in his peripherals, enjoying the lines of her body while still keeping focus on the task at hand. No need to get distracted and cut himself. He tosses her a look as she mentions trust, brows lifting.

"Oh, you'll trust me when this's ready," he says, all confidence. He might have had a lapse of memory before, but this feels like riding a bike. "But nah, salt just ups the boiling point temperature so the pasta cooks faster. I ain't in a rush."

He's still got to prep the oils and the cheese. He finishes up the vegetables and opens the box of noodles, measuring out enough for the two of them and slowly easing the fettuccine into the pot, letting the heat bend the noodles so he can fit them in the rest of the way. He grabs the olive oil and adds a small dollop of that, however, taking a wooden spoon and mixing it in with the water.

"Keeps them from sticking," he remarks.