"Oh, uh--" Woody plucked the juice box from the young man's grasp, gazing down at it with some uncertainty. "...Sure." He'd seen plenty of juice boxes in his time, lots of them, but holding one in his hands was still a new experience for the former toy.

He wasn't stupid, though, and knew how they were supposed to work. After tearing off the straw, Woody fumbled with the plastic wrapping around the straw, eventually freeing it. Then, he punctured the foil covering over the hole and adjusted the straw to where Mack could easily sip from it.

"There," he finally said, offering the juice box back to him. "You'd better drink up." It was the kind of thing Mom might have said to Andy when he was a child, but Woody thought he could probably use it after all he'd been through last night.