"I'm sorry, they mailed us here in padded boxes, so now they can make whatever food we ask for and say thank you when we eat it," Shepard laughs, "I'm hungry enough to feed a chair-leg to anybody who pisses me off, today."

She's always that hungry, but then— wartime shortages had re-calibrated her idea, once again, of what constituted enough food. And always that number climbed higher, didn't it? Better nutritious sawdust than water and hope, or worse.

"I've definitely gained weight since coming here."

Which is to say, for all her musculature, she doesn't actually look like she's starving anymore.