Sonia looks, to be completely honest about it, like crap. With her gaze so dulled by illness and her hair a sweaty mess, she reminds Beth of nothing so much as the feverish wasting away that happens after someone's been bit. At least it's not that bad.

"It's pretty good tonight," she offers, like the taste of groats changes in any meaningful way from meal to meal. On a whim, she sets down the glass of water and reaches out to smooth Sonia's hair back from her face. "Probably better to eat something."