Ravus follows Gladio back to their room, registering nothing of the short journey there. He could almost be sleepwalking. He sits on the edge of the beds, exhausted.

He doesn't know what to say. He is growing more accustomed to kindness from the Lucians, but sometimes it still catches him off guard, the ease with which they show affection. Is that the generosity of those who have never felt a lack for it?

"...she would like them." It feels woefully inadequate.

Ravus takes up the bowl mechanically, because Gladio has asked him to eat, not because he is hungry for it. He takes one spoonful, then another, tasting none of it.