Fukawa, [ he echoes. No nice to meet you, because this is all bullshit, but it passes as a greeting. (And a mild check to ensure he's saying it right, though Daryl's not that dim, really.)

He eats a few fries while she picks at her sandwich. The salt, the fried texture; he's getting to the point where he's not sure if any of this actually tastes good, or if he's just feeding a starved part of his brain that's withered away since the last time he had a cold Mountain Dew. Taste buds change over time— everything now nearly burns. He eats it regardless.

Anyway. No, he's not much of a talker, and just shrugs at her, for that inquiry. ]

The emotion? Sure. It's a shit world most of the time, ain't it.

[ Besides that, he doesn't know. A beat, and he mumbles something that might be 'gimme a sec', before getting up and going to the nearest food vendor. When he returns, he has a complementary plastic up of water, which he sets down near Fukawa. ]

This'll help. You better eat something, this abduction crap is stressful.