It's late. Far too late to reasonably be awake when he doesn't have to be, the distant call of moon-yo through the half-opened window that offers a breeze that smells of sea-salt.

He rubs at one eye, adjusting his goggles back into place as he sighs and eyes the handiwork before him. It's not the best, he'll be the first to admit that. But at least it looks...edible.

He hopes, anyways.

Bowl picked up, he moves from the little kitchen to slip down the hall with steady footfall and turns to his left, eyes locking upon the occupant of the bed.

"Good," he greets, "you're still awake." He moves to offer them the bowl, then takes his place on the bed to watch as they eye the food. He frowns. "I was under the impression this was what you wanted...?"