"Thank you." She gives the chili and the extra hot sauce some attention while he's eating. If someone built her a pot-stirring robot, she would love them forever.

"Aw. I'll hope they don't serve chili for a while, so it doesn't mar your memories of today." He's laying it on thick, but that just makes it a game for her. "And, you know, there's always the hope of chili yet to come. The future could hold all kinds of things."

She's heard about military-grade sustenance. She wouldn't call it food.