[ There's a pause as she turns her head to look at him, her gaze discerning. Not for a moment does she doubt that what he's saying is true, after all she's witnessed from him. However, his words aren't something she'd expect out of the boisterous, playful person she so often meets; they feel more like the confessions of someone who has already abandoned all ties to the human urges of eating and sleeping. She thinks back to how he'd joked about wishing for that never-ending lunch box, reminiscing about how childishly excited he had seemed. Thinking about how beneath it, it was probably all a farce, playing at being excited over something as insignificant and easily forfeited for him as food. ]

"Being tired is not the only reason to rest."

[ She settles on, the curve of her lip clever, a cold hand raising to her chin. ]

It feels as though I have heard that rather recently. Hehehe....

[ Her chuckles seem a little more mirthful than the usual aloofness they're uttered with, genuinely sounding amused to have turned his own words against him. ]

Are there not things which you would enjoy to eat again? Things you yearn to dream about? To forfeit these urges... is to eventually forget those desires. And in doing so, yourself. I would not wish that fate on anyone.

[ She wishes she could taste mulled wine again, could close her eyes and dream of the person she loves most. But she can't remember the things she used to like to eat, what things used to excite her enough to dream about. There's no choice in giving it up for her — it's simply gone forever, and despite the playful way in which she delivers it, the warning is serious. ]