Albedo had succeeded in making the lines look something like a person, but nowhere near to what the original was. He was pleased either way, and flipped the page in his own to a clean sheet to start listing names--of people, of planets, of places, of people he had met here--anything to take up space. His handwriting was horrendous, but he kept at it with a strange dedication; a single-minded focus mostly reserved for his twin or his habits of destruction.

He was halfway through the page when he noticed the other person in the room speaking to him. He looked up sharply, watching warily as he weighed the reasons that the other was speaking to him. His brain backtracked as he went over what his roommate had said. Your dinner's getting cold.

Oh. Food. He hadn't ate since the few bites at breakfast, and then that was interupted by Albedo slamming into Nigredo, and then he missed lunch altogether when he was sleeping off his sedation. True, as a child soldier, he was used to going without food for awhile, but if there was an option....

Albedo carefully placed the notebooks to the side and walked back over to the desk to see the tray on it. Looked edible enough. He glanced over at the other again. "Yeah." There was a pause for a minute. Albedo narrowed his eyes again, before adding gruffly, "Thanks."

...Wait. Was that dessert? Pie? They never had dessert at the Yuriev Institute. Oh, he could get used to this!