"Well, we can mutually thank each other for being convenient excuses out of conversations we really didn't want to be in either." He paused, though, not wanting Savannah to think he was too bothered by the press, "not that I really mind talking with the writers. It's just that very few of them want to talk shop, and a lot of them just want to gossip. I'm afraid I'm not very good at the whole 'gossip' thing. Maybe Leanne can help me practice how to tell better stories to sports writers."
Geoff let his gaze wander down to her stomach when it rumbled. It actually sounded angry - maybe it was offended at the quality of the meal that Savannah may or may not have actually eaten. He wrinkled his nose.
"Uh," he started, glancing over to the refreshment table, "I didn't have too much of it, honestly. I'm really in no position to judge food, but it just didn't seem like my sort of ... cuisine." Did that sound horribly rude?
"I mean, people don't really come to these kind of events for food -- they come to raise money, right? So that's what's important." And he'd donated a reasonable amount, so nobody could fault him for not nibbling at any of the slimy looking appetizers. His own stomach let out a loud groan and he glanced down at it a bit sheepishly.
"I guess I'm still a tad starved, though."
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