"Yeah. Thanks." He's looking forward to the food, and grateful for it - he's not at starving point yet, but it's been long enough that he's extremely hungry.

At the pharmacy, he's content to take the time to rest - sitting with his legs stretched out in front of him, rubbing at his knee. The short walk had loosened up his muscles a bit, but without any food to fuel him, it had tired him out. He's not sure how far he can make it today, even after eating. He wants to wolf down the beans as quickly as possible, but he forces himself to go slowly - there's no sense in getting food in him if he's just going to throw it back up, after all.

"Yeah, Watson," he calls out at some point, his voice a little louder than before but still not that much stronger. "Listen. I still need to speak with you, right, about something that just isn't sitting well with me. It's not about that night with the scalpel, because I think we're past that now - but it's important and unpleasant, yeah, so you let me know when you're ready for it." The fact that he's giving Watson an option of when to talk is, in Alfie's mind, a magnanimous gesture - one fitting for the man who's helping him out.