I've- I've felt despair, felt unmotivated, but not- never... ugh, the dead might be more lively.

[Somehow voicing his frustration helped, at least enough to tear the packaging open with the audible crinkling of thin plastic. The pastry, of course, slides out and lands on his chest. Another inconvenience that shouldn't even matter, but does. It takes entirely too much focus just to pick it up again.]

This is pathetic... All of this for something so small.

[A deep breath, a reluctant nibble. Vanilla that's too strong, too sweet. Somehow still also tastes like sand, and is just as hard to swallow.]

...They fed us generously.

[He's not entirely sure what good that does, really. It was the first thing he thought of when he began to eat, the food they gave them.]