[He just lets out a short, mostly relieved hn before he's back to staring down his food. Plastic spoon. No matter how much he looks at it, really, he doesn't want it. Even if his stomach is feverishly protesting and growling up at him.
Feed me, goddammit.
Distractions. He wishes he could think of any. Instead he gives in and takes just a little at a time on his spoon--not even really enough to be a bite, but he's at least making some sort of progress. Under Sanji's stare, he can't really bring himself not to.
Just like he can't let himself fall apart in front of Sanji. It's a difficult effort to not roll over and hide under a pillow or two.]
[Action]
Feed me, goddammit.
Distractions. He wishes he could think of any. Instead he gives in and takes just a little at a time on his spoon--not even really enough to be a bite, but he's at least making some sort of progress. Under Sanji's stare, he can't really bring himself not to.
Just like he can't let himself fall apart in front of Sanji. It's a difficult effort to not roll over and hide under a pillow or two.]