“Still hungry?” Soap asks, watching you shove more of the soup into your mouth. “Don’t need to eat that fast. No one’s taking your food.”

He wonders when you’d last had a good meal. You look so… frail. It’s breaking his heart. Soap clears his throat. He doesn’t need to get emotional in front of you. You’re just trying to enjoy your food.

“Won’t have to worry about meals again, alright?” He’s not a father—doesn’t know if he ever wants to be—but he looks at you and sees himself as one.