Chuck pretends not to hear it, just keeps walking, doing his best to match his pace to Edgar's slowed one.

"So, I've got some microwaveable meals and cheese and sandwich meat, probably enough for a couple days. I get fruit and real food at the bar a couple times a week, usually take showers in the gym, but I've got water stores and wipes and stuff here."

His room is a little nerve-racking, with his Striker Eureka jacket in the closet unbidden. He mostly avoids it, though he hasn't gotten the nerve to toss his key.

"I only have an incinerating toilet rigged up, but --" he shrugs, "That's not that bad, yeah?"