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“I’m not hungry.”

“That is inaccurate.”

I blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You looked at the food unit three times while we were speaking.”

“That does not mean I’m hungry.”

“You also pressed your hand against your stomach six minutes ago.”

I stared at him. “You counted?”

“No.”

“You absolutely counted.”

“I noticed.”

Somehow that was worse.

I pulled the meal toward me. “Fine.”

Veyr took another one from the food unit.

Same inspection.

Seal. Date. Back.

I watched him. “You know, if dinner kills us after everything else, I’m going to be very annoyed.”

“That would be reasonable.”

I peeled back the covering and tried a bite.

The grain was softer than I expected. The meat—or whatever Zuna’s equivalent was—had a smoky flavor that was actually good.

Then the sharp spice hit.

I coughed.

Veyr’s head lifted immediately. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“You are coughing.”

“I noticed.”

“Can you breathe?”

“Yes.”

His hand was already moving toward the medical kit.

I stared at him. “Sit down.”

He stopped.