Greta hums as she helps herself to another forkful, giving this one a more professional assessment. She doesn't have much of a frame of reference for diner food, and can only take Iman's word for it that it shouldn't be as good as this. They taste fine to her, and she's fairly certain she could replicate it. Perhaps even improve it; she could see a stack of plain pancakes getting a bit monotonous without something besides syrup to add more flavor. Fruit, maybe - if she finely chopped some apples or added berries to the batter...

She catches herself before she gets lost completely, and hastily offers Iman another bite. (Is this even Iman's fork? She's already lost track. Oh, well, neither of them have a cold so it hardly matters, right?) "I was just thinking of how I might make them," she admits with a sheepish smile. "But they are good, so I thank you for the introduction."

The next piece she offers has a bit too much syrup on it, and it ends up dripping onto Iman's chin. "Oh! Sorry," Greta says with an embarrassed giggle. And Iman can't even see to it without releasing the dish, and then they'd really have a mess. Oh, dear. "Hang on..." She sets down her fork so she can wipe the syrup away with the pad of her thumb. "There. Well, we knew it would be messy." She snorts, amused, then absently licks the syrup off her thumb before regaining her fork and cutting them a few more pieces.