He can't take it any longer. He reaches forward - the movement stiff and awkward and desperate - and grabs for the food. Drags it towards him and peels off the lid and starts to eat. He hunches over it a bit, like a hawk protecting its kill - all but scarfs it down. It's stupid, because to take Miles' stupid food is like an admission of trust. He knows that eating it erodes his defenses. But it feels so good, and it's such a comfort, eating it - a little of his anxiety quiets. A lot of his anxiety quiets.

And with his mouth full, it gives him time to think. Is that your motive, or is it Galen's? For years, there was no difference, because the clone believed passionately in Galen's ideals. That passion had faded, but even so, there'd been no difference between what Galen wanted and what he wanted because there simply couldn't be. But now...

"I'm just saying, it's stupid," he mumbles through a full mouth. He swallows, takes another forkful. And then, half from interest, half because he wants Miles to talk so that he can eat in silence without having to worry about interrupting himself to speak: "Why did they take your clothes?"