He shrugged, though he took a moment before actually speaking up, after her.

"What I do is about me. What you do isn't." He waited until she'd reached the kitchen, before finally stepping out of the niche behind the entrance door. He thought it safer not to assume what it was about, what she did.

After a moment's hesitation, he followed her, leaning slightly against the door-frame.

"What is the food, anyway?" There was some familiarity in the way it smelled, as she opened containers, but the sight brought no clear associations. It wasn't a conscious effort to change the subject, either. He actually didn't know.