Sonny murmurs his own grace, but not before murmuring a thank you in Cougar's direction. His prayer is short and almost silent, hardly more than just the movement of his lips. It's just a standard Catholic prayer, but it brings some sense of comfort in an otherwise unfamiliar situation.

He's quiet for a moment, shoveling food into his mouth. It's impolite — his mother would probably whack him on the back of the head. But he's hungry. Hungrier than he initially thought.

"I hope not," he murmurs eventually, then clears his throat. "How do you deal with stuff like that?"