If he hadn't already eaten maybe he'd be willing to take her up on it, face the uncanny sight of her in the kitchen here, familiar acts in an unfamiliar place, stripped of the easy way they were around one another. No grilled cheese in the middle of the night. No freezer full of labeled parcels, an oddly gruesome pantry. Laceration, gunshot, fever.

"We can get you fed if you want," he offers. Last thing he's going to do is let her not take care of herself, after all.

"If not..."

He shrugs. If not, then they explore.