He narrowed his eyes at the man for the nickname, but didnâ€™t protest. Mainly because he couldnâ€™t and itâ€™d probably be futile. The man walked over to him with the food and he almost drooled. He wanted to snatch the bowl out of his hands and scarf it down. And he almost thought that he was going to feed him. That wasnâ€™t going to happen if he had a say in it.<br/><br/>The man didnâ€™t, he laid down some rules for eating the food then left. He took the bowl and spoon, stared at the spoon for a second before placing it on the table and tipping the bowl back slowly. Not really paying much attention to the taste, he was paying attention to the manâ€™s movements.<br/><br/>He finished it off quickly, but slow enough to meet the manâ€™s requirements. The heat barely registering into his mind. He was used to extremes, he didnâ€™t care what it was or if it was cooked as long as it was filing and had nutrients he needed to continue.<br/><br/>He placed the bowl on the table and stared at it, unsure how to ask for a second serving and not sure if he should. His eyes zeroed in on the man when he spoke again. He stared at him for a minute before slowly shaking his head â€˜noâ€™. No he couldnâ€™t remember how to speak. It wasnâ€™t a requirement. It wasnâ€™t useful. It was unnecessary to survival.