He nods twice, one for the first question, one for the second, and his gaze sweeps down to the food longingly before he stops himself and forces his eyes up. Shoulders a little squared, he seems to be trying to settle into something--some sort of version of him that's appropriate for the situation.

The problem is, there isn't one, and he's left looking vaguely uncomfortable and, eventually, his shoulders slouch again as his gaze finds his hands, clasped neatly in front of him.

"Thank you," He says again, because he's learned gratefulness goes a long way--and it's all genuine. "Did you... Did you get hit, as well? We were awful close. You look tired."