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If Ross is honest (which he won't be, if anyone were to actually ask), he's a bit nervous about having Matthew over to the apartment.
It isn't because he isn't happy to host the lad; no, it's more that Ross isn't sure he's altogether a proper host at all. Demelza had teased him throughout the evening, up until she'd left for work at Tintern, about how he'd looked like he was fretting over whether pizza would be the right choice for a meal, considering he can hardly cook on his own. It's Demelza who is skilled in the kitchen, not Ross, and his wife hardly ceases to remind him of that when the subject comes up.
He realizes how ridiculous he's being, if only because he's most certainly had friends before. It's just that those friends had been in Cornwall, Ross had known them practically all his life, and to be faced with an overwhelming selection of unfamiliar faces in this city, he sometimes isn't sure how to go about being more than relatively civil with most people. He's lucky, he thinks, to have discovered that Matthew is willing enough to lead their conversations when Ross seems to be at a loss for what to say. Andrea, too, is quite like that, and Demelza herself rarely runs out of things to say. So perhaps that is what Ross needs, someone who can poke and prod and pry him out of the sort of shell he retreats into at times. As it turns out, he's cultivating quite a few friends who posses that talent.
When the doorbell rings, Ross freezes, staring at the door before shifting his gaze to Julia, who looks up at him from the bassinet that's been set up in their living room with wide, curious eyes. "Best behavior," Ross murmurs, and he isn't sure whether he's reminding himself or the baby but it's neither here nor there because then he's crossing the room and opening the door.
He breaks into a smile, which he hopes is welcoming enough. "Matthew," he greets, stepping aside to let the young man inside. "Come in, please, the living room is right through here. Take a seat wherever you'd like."
It isn't because he isn't happy to host the lad; no, it's more that Ross isn't sure he's altogether a proper host at all. Demelza had teased him throughout the evening, up until she'd left for work at Tintern, about how he'd looked like he was fretting over whether pizza would be the right choice for a meal, considering he can hardly cook on his own. It's Demelza who is skilled in the kitchen, not Ross, and his wife hardly ceases to remind him of that when the subject comes up.
He realizes how ridiculous he's being, if only because he's most certainly had friends before. It's just that those friends had been in Cornwall, Ross had known them practically all his life, and to be faced with an overwhelming selection of unfamiliar faces in this city, he sometimes isn't sure how to go about being more than relatively civil with most people. He's lucky, he thinks, to have discovered that Matthew is willing enough to lead their conversations when Ross seems to be at a loss for what to say. Andrea, too, is quite like that, and Demelza herself rarely runs out of things to say. So perhaps that is what Ross needs, someone who can poke and prod and pry him out of the sort of shell he retreats into at times. As it turns out, he's cultivating quite a few friends who posses that talent.
When the doorbell rings, Ross freezes, staring at the door before shifting his gaze to Julia, who looks up at him from the bassinet that's been set up in their living room with wide, curious eyes. "Best behavior," Ross murmurs, and he isn't sure whether he's reminding himself or the baby but it's neither here nor there because then he's crossing the room and opening the door.
He breaks into a smile, which he hopes is welcoming enough. "Matthew," he greets, stepping aside to let the young man inside. "Come in, please, the living room is right through here. Take a seat wherever you'd like."
