Peter gives her another look before grabbing the nearest piece. She was right. He... was sad. Or at least, sad would be the easiest way to describe it. Maybe lonely. Or some mixture of things that he was trying to keep shoved down inside because he had to keep doing things, to keep getting up every day. Now trying to figure out what to do now that he was stuck in a weird space station. There was no time to break. But, at this point, it was almost like a constant for him. He hadn't even realized that's how he looked and even with the food in front of him still looked. But, upon grabbing the pizza his expression lightened just slightly.

And it's... warm, well hot, but not hot enough to burn the roof of his mouth. Not that he wouldn't have bounced back from something so small. He had definitely dealt with a number of times where he had done that. And it was good. It wasn't, exactly, like the places he had frequented back home but it reminded him enough of those family-owned hole-in-the-wall pizza shops. He took another bite, then another, and before he knew it the slice had disappeared from his hand. That was the funny thing about having both a crazy metabolism and finally having access to all the food after a long period without. It made Peter more of a vacuum than anything else. Unless it was that coffee. That wasn't so good. Even if he was used to drinking the burnt kind. The mug now sat to the side, abandoned.

"It's good," he eventually said after inhaling the slice he had taken and right before he helped himself to another and took a huge bite, "It's good still. Even if it's not quite right."