"Honestly," Cooper said as he pulled his T-shirt back over his head, "I haven't had a chance to eat here yet." Skivvies and pants back on, he once again regretted his choice of footgear. Half an hour of arguing just to get his freakin' steeltoes through security and getting his feet crushed turns out to be the very least of his worries. He sighed. These cockroach-crushers were definitely not the Euro-stylish clothes he was going to need here.<br/><br/>"Um. But for you," he said, focusing on Sarah once again, "Protein I think. For energy. Hey, it's Spain, right? They must have killer tapas." He crooked his elbow and offered her his arm. "Let's get you some bacalao or something."