Vague though it might have been, it was still a description Harpuia felt he could understand -- after his oh-so-wise choice to ignore all the other meals offered, he was definitely feeling the consequences. Tsurugi was giving him valuable advice, and as much as Harpuia wanted to cling to the idea that he was still robotic, there was no reason to disregard it. It would have been beyond foolish to actively hinder his own chances at survival.

Harpuia turned to his own meal, picking up his fork with a lingering hint of reluctance. At the very least, he could appreciate Tsurugi's graciousness about the situation -- he knew that the situation probably warranted some degree of incredulity, but the fact that Tsurugi didn't even bat an eyelash at an apparent robot-turned-human asking how basic biological drives worked said something about his character.

"Thank you. I know I asked you a difficult question, but that does help me." A miniscule sliver of chicken was peeled away (this used to be a living thing) -- too small to choke on, and hopefully too small to gum up the clockwork inside if that faint hope he was still mechanical proved to be true. He raised it to his lips with obvious trepidation (this had once been moving, living muscle) and took a bite (like a grain thresher carving up an unlucky fieldmouse). Chew -- mastication, the utilization of teeth to render food into an easy-to-break-down (and undoubtedly gross-looking) slurry -- and swallow, which was a very strange-feeling act in and of itself.

His first impression? Eating, like many of the aspects of this new body, was an unappealing necessity.

"...It's not easy to be human, is it?"