By contrast, Ford takes the task of eating his food far more slowly - partly because he's actively trying to stay engaged in their conversation, and partly because he doesn't want to make himself sick. He knows what happens when you shovel down a mountain of food into a too-empty stomach and he's not looking forward to adding refeeding syndrome onto the long list of Shit That's Wrong with him.

So instead he focuses on the conversation, and does his best to resist the urge to make Stanley's eating habits look tame in comparison. He does a pretty damn good job, too, until Stan mentions their mother. Then he chokes on a fry and has to thump his chest a little so he can breathe again.

"She's fine." He begins, starting things off right by stumbling over his words. "She - she sounded alright over the phone, the last time we talked."

He pauses, looking from Stanley to the table as his gaze goes distant, his mind wandering as he tries to remember when that last conversation even was. He cards his fingers through his hair absently, as if that will somehow help jog his memory.

The longer he has to think, the more distressed he seems to get, until finally he sighs roughly and makes a self-aggravated sound, his head dropping back against the seat behind him as a hand moves to cover his eyes.

"...Remind me to call Mom when we get back to the house."