“You eat oil?”
“Olive oil.”
He seemed to take that in and then nodded. No other questions seemed to be forthcoming, since he lifted his fork and scooped up a generous portion, then put it in his mouth. His eyes lit up, but it seemed he had enough self-control to finish chewing before he said, “It’s very good.”
“I’m glad you like it.”
It was the sort of commonplace comment anyone might make in those sorts of circumstances, and yet he appeared to consider my words carefully, as if he’d never had anyone tell him they were glad about something he’d done. Maybe they hadn’t. From the few things my Aunt Kirsten had let slip, it didn’t sound as if the aliens who’d run the base were exactly the cheerful, supportive sort.
Logan and I ate in silence, partly because I could tell he was focused on
