"I do," Martin agrees rather fondly, returning the companionable nudge. Eliot utters it like a joke, but Martin knows the truth of it, how deep Eliot's passion for helping, for being involved truly runs. But he's not here to embarrass his friend or make things sentimental, so he's happy to stick with Eliot's more characteristically lighthearted tone.
"Oh, very impressive," he notes, craning his neck to admire the leaf-loaf. It looks bloody delicious, and he catches himself hoping no one makes off with it before it comes time for him to leave.
"We're... all right," he says, lifting a shoulder. It's true enough. This whole situation may be rather difficult for him personally, but that doesn't feel worth going into. And his unique experience aside, it's not as if this is any less difficult for anyone else. "Making do. Really grateful to have friends who are good at this sort of thing. If we were really on our own I figure we'd just be eating out of cans by now."
He hesitates, feeling a bit wrong-footed, like he's disrupting the work flow by just standing here amid the relative bustle, but then he remembers himself and reaches into his bag.
"I, erm... I brought some sugar." He lifts the rubber-banded, mostly full package out and offers it. "I figure you already have plenty of this sort of thing, but I didn't want to come empty-handed, so..." They've got enough in the sugar bowl for him to make his tea how he likes for a while yet, and if this situation persists beyond that, well... there'll be bigger problems.
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"Oh, very impressive," he notes, craning his neck to admire the leaf-loaf. It looks bloody delicious, and he catches himself hoping no one makes off with it before it comes time for him to leave.
"We're... all right," he says, lifting a shoulder. It's true enough. This whole situation may be rather difficult for him personally, but that doesn't feel worth going into. And his unique experience aside, it's not as if this is any less difficult for anyone else. "Making do. Really grateful to have friends who are good at this sort of thing. If we were really on our own I figure we'd just be eating out of cans by now."
He hesitates, feeling a bit wrong-footed, like he's disrupting the work flow by just standing here amid the relative bustle, but then he remembers himself and reaches into his bag.
"I, erm... I brought some sugar." He lifts the rubber-banded, mostly full package out and offers it. "I figure you already have plenty of this sort of thing, but I didn't want to come empty-handed, so..." They've got enough in the sugar bowl for him to make his tea how he likes for a while yet, and if this situation persists beyond that, well... there'll be bigger problems.