It's gone, and her face changes - from the blank, almost overwhelmed stare it flickers and she's looking down because abruptly, the taste of it's gone, the warmth of it- and she's hungry, she's starving again.

She bites her lips together, and her shoulders tighten up even as she sticks her communicator in her pocket. "It's like home," she says, sort of to the air, and not to him.

"I'm hungry," she says then, and she turns towards him, her eyes flicking from him to his neck, and she swallows thickly. "Computer, playback program from Forbes One." And it changes, it turns, and it's night again, it's night and there's a guy walking down the sidewalk in the distance - the same one who'd been in a crumpled heap on the tarmac not long before.