Gotcha. At least she isn't trying to do it all herself anymore.

[And he noms silently on his food for a couple more bites before deciding that's enough, sets the only half-finished plate back on the tray. Still having to get used to the "having enough good food available" thing here. Every time he shifts to lean down or lean back, a few more of those scars on his arms become visible, going seemingly all the way up; either slashes or burns or the ending tendrils of weird marks that go further up.]

... But how are you doing? It's... Been a couple days now?

[He thinks? He's bad at time.]