[He’s in better spirits than he was when he was trapped in a cell, but not by much. He’s nervous and suspicious of innocent noises. It’s not enough to be able to fight anymore. He’s surrounded by magic, and magic in most cases beats fists. If he had to sleep, he’d probably have nightmares. And he used to love going for a swim, but now it hurts so much he dreads it.

Connor is admittedly a little let down that Hank couldn’t find him, but he can see that he’s beating himself up about it so he’s careful to hide it. He supposes it’s his own fault for expecting too much... or hoping for too much when he was desperate. He doesn’t like Hank any less for it, so maybe it’s unimportant.

He looks up as Sumo slumps next to him, petting the dog as he replies.]

No... not really. Not from the kitchen, anyway.

[Even if he could eat, he would probably have next to no appetite.]