He wonders what this is, what it's supposed to be. Are they having an interrogation, or a meeting, or a god damn picnic? He eyes Steve's spread and has to admit to himself that he hasn't had anything but the coffee he'd made it half way through before meeting Steve. Too paranoid to stop, too focused to eat. After a second or two of hesitation he reaches out and snags himself a chocolate peanut butter protein bar.

He had a handful of these in his own pack. Apparently they have similar taste in survival food.

Deft fingers peel the wrapper back, he pretends to be consumed by the process but really he's listening keenly and thinking back a hundred years.

He remembers.

His ma practically loaded him down with food to take to Steve's. They were a little better off money-wise, it was the least they could do. In turn, Steve's mom did most of their sewing when something needed hemmed or mended.

"They were better," He agrees quietly, after a moment. "I remember that. They're weird now, they're all..."

He trails off, and stuffs a bite of protein bar in his mouth instead.