She sits with him at the small kitchen table, eating quietly. She doesn't have much to say, but she's content at least. Alcohol definitely loosens her tongue, but for the most part, she's not very talkative. Doesn't know if she ever has been, but she likes this. Likes that he doesn't try to get her to talk, and when they do have a conversation, it always feels as though it means something. As if every word he says, even if it's just 'pudding,' matters.

When she dives into the pudding, she takes a bite and hums, turning the spoon over in her mouth.

"Say what you want about DHARMA. They make a mean chocolate pudding."