“…pretty good, actually.”

Finn takes some of the toast and bacon, piling them onto the plate with his omelette. His tone was a little flat, and there was a drawn, harrowed edge to his expression, but his appetite wasn’t suffering. He takes a big mouthful of omelette, chewing while he pours syrup onto his bacon.

“Everyfhing’s mreally good, Jake.” He swallows, taking a long drink of orange juice. It was like he hadn’t eaten in a week.