He types a quick answer in about the food, and ignores all the other questions other than to assure them that, yes, the General is actually here and is actually coming, no he's not just having them on, and to agree to keep him away for at least another hour so they can clean up as well as possible and make sure dinner preparations are well under way.

"A ballad? About roast beef? Huh." He tips his head a little and then grins. "There're definitely worse things to write songs about than good food." He shoves his phone away, ignoring how it starts vibrating again, and picks up his cup. "So, how do you want to kill an hour or so before we head over?" He's comfortable enough now, or at least making himself be, that he doesn't even have to strain not to tack a sir onto the end of every question or comment.