I turned to leave the ruined chapel, my mind already calculating the disguise for the warehouse infiltration.
Ivan didn't move.
As I passed him, he reached out and grabbed my arm. His grip was firm but careful, his glove cold against my sleeve.
"Wait," he said.
I stopped, looking back at him. "What? Did we miss something? Is there another patrol route?"
Ivan looked away, his jaw clenching slightly. He cleared his throat, the sound unnaturally loud in the silent chapel. He looked... awkward.
"Are you..." he started, then paused. He tried again. "Have you eaten?"
I blinked. "What?"
"Food," Ivan said, his voice stiff. "Sustenance. Have you consumed any in the last three days? Or have you just been eating stale apples in a moldy basement?"
"I'm fine," I said, rolling my eyes. "I'm strong. I don't need..."
GRRRRRR-RUMBLE.
My stomach didn't just growl; it roared. It sounded like a trapped beast demanding release.
The sound echoed off the stone walls.
