Noah drops down right beside him for a moment, camera cradled in his lap as he pokes at the buttons and spins the little wheel. Ronan watches him, pleased that he'd managed to bring something of this size out with little difficulty. There may or may not be a number of failed attempts in his closet, but Noah doesn't need to know that.

He breathes a laugh at Noah's suggestion, but nods easily enough. It's not like he has anything better to do. Giving Noah a quick nudge with his elbow, he pushes to his feet. "Pretty sure Cinnamon was made for close-ups," he says, stopping back the kitchen on the way out to grab the container of orange juice straight from the fridge.