"O-oh." Daniel looks at his empty box of chicken because where else, exactly, is he supposed to look? "Oh."

He's not what he would call strapping by any means, but going on enough digs has more or less forced his body to adapt to the kind of work it is. As of late he hasn't had purpose or means or funds to do any of it anymore.

"Oh," he says again, his biology betraying him further by sending a much more intense rush of scarlet at his ears.

Oh.