Their guest doesn't object, trailing along behind them and wordlessly picking what would satisfy his stomach. Once they get into the tables, he goes quiet.
He gets a good share of eggs as those were filling even on his most active days, nestled with a heap of greens. Bread was a given, having its place on the plate. He tilts his head at the milk, more accustomed to drinking beer than milk, but decides to switch up this time around. A peach ends up stowed away in his clothes, with the plate having a rather full mound with the portions of the other foods.
Unless Vena or Aren ask him something directly, he is content to be a silent bystander and listen to them banter. Once they find their spot outside, he occupies himself by picking at the food. His expression at mealtime is solemn - it is uncertain whether or not he's actually enjoying what he was eating - but the fact that he kept methodically cleaning the plate of its food was indicator of something. He liked it enough to finish, and he tolerated their company enough not to slip away to the infirmary.
The warm milk was comforting, and Guts pauses after each sip to enjoy the novel flavor. The ever-present suspicious look in his eyes soften. He seemed to be getting something out of the whole meal aside from fulfilling the simple requirement to eat and regain his strength. It was nice.
no subject
He gets a good share of eggs as those were filling even on his most active days, nestled with a heap of greens. Bread was a given, having its place on the plate. He tilts his head at the milk, more accustomed to drinking beer than milk, but decides to switch up this time around. A peach ends up stowed away in his clothes, with the plate having a rather full mound with the portions of the other foods.
Unless Vena or Aren ask him something directly, he is content to be a silent bystander and listen to them banter. Once they find their spot outside, he occupies himself by picking at the food. His expression at mealtime is solemn - it is uncertain whether or not he's actually enjoying what he was eating - but the fact that he kept methodically cleaning the plate of its food was indicator of something. He liked it enough to finish, and he tolerated their company enough not to slip away to the infirmary.
The warm milk was comforting, and Guts pauses after each sip to enjoy the novel flavor. The ever-present suspicious look in his eyes soften. He seemed to be getting something out of the whole meal aside from fulfilling the simple requirement to eat and regain his strength. It was nice.