What I want to talk about are probably not conversations for lighthearted chitchat over... [ He gestures at their plates with one hand, picking up the coffee with the other.

Yet they're barely eating. Fancy that. Still. He takes another bite of the eggs, and then decides he'll just ignore them in favor of..this conversation. And his coffee.

He wonders if Credence plans on doing something with this information or if he just wants to know. It would put him more on edge, this idea of just wanting to know for knowing's sake, if his entire department and Serafina and the medical staff (and perhaps his sister, if she didn't presume he belonged to the first or last of that list) had not deemed Credence fit for the task of interacting with him.

He had found him, after all, and Percival is sure that he was going to die there. He's still not sure what living as a result of that is supposed to look like, and the fact that this entire interaction is almost a reflection of that should worry him.

Percival quirks his eyebrows again after a pause. It's more of a mental shrug to himself, than anything else. ]

The things I like the most for dinner are usually more difficult to find, on my schedule. Lamb cawl - a Welsh stew, comes to mind. Definitely a dinner dish. Baked potatoes. Sausages. German noodle dishes I never learned the proper names for.

Lunch...I think I've had a year of sandwiches or things left over from some other dinner.