Badou just shrugged. "Here? Screw that. Three meals a day for free isn't bad." Three delicious meals. He wished briefly that he'd just gotten himself addicted to food. Sure they'd have to roll him around the institute with a fork lift but at least he wouldn't be suffering much.

He absently prodded the nicotine patch on his chest as if that would magically increase the potency. He must be going totally batshit mad, because he could swear he heard some sense in what the rooster had just said. "...1860? Seriously? I guess they weren't joking about the time thing. Did they even have hair gel back then?" He gave the rooster a vaguely annoyed look at the obvious syrup wasting. Sure he was new at this, but that was hardly an excuse. "Hey, don't waste good food when you spend so much time bitching about it. Either taste it or hand it back you big chicken."