Throughout dinner, Karen wonders occasionally if there might be something up, some reason for this. It is somewhat unusual, and she isn't the oblivious type. Everything seems normal enough within that, though, and it doesn't seem like any anniversary she can think of, some date with significance that might have slipped her mind before now. By the end of the meal, she's caught up enough in conversation — their brand of typical, even if it wouldn't be anyone else's — that she isn't thinking too much about it anymore, just enjoying his company, the food, and a nice night in.

She's just finished her dessert, about to offer to clear the table and take care of the dishes, what seems like the least she can do after he went to the trouble of cooking a four-course meal for them, when he looks up at her and says something familiar. It takes just a moment, but then it's like pieces slotting into place, the dishes forgotten and her breath catching. She remembers when she said that, what they were talking about. Suddenly, the meal makes sense, or it would if she were thinking that much about it. He hasn't asked it yet, but this is just how they wanted it.

"Yeah," she says quietly, something softly pleased and a little hopeful in her expression. She probably shouldn't assume what this means, but it's apparent enough what he's getting at. Still, he hasn't asked yet, and she's not going to cut that off before it happens. "It is."