The gunman was up front and Doc leaned up against the wall, still seated on the bedroll, idly trying not to fall asleep. An hour trickled by. Finally, a low growl came from Sniper’s stomach.

“Ah.” He sat up and winced ruefully. “You know…I’d almost forgotten I haven’t eaten in like…days.”

Doc tried to remember when he had. Nothing came to mind. His own stomach responded, angrily.

Sniper laughed at his flushing face. “Hey, come on. You may be immortal, but you still get hungry, doncha?”

He nodded, embarrassed. He pushed his glasses up his nose.

The gunman went back into the back, rummaging through the cabinets. Frowning as he shifted contents around, he pulled out a dented box of teabags, a couple empty cardboard boxes, and some plastic utensils. Bit his lip in frustration as he tossed an empty box of Calorie Mate into the plastic trash can and put his hands on his hips.

“Ugh. I knew I should have checked before I went into that damn forest.”

Doc gave him a sheepish smile. “Please, don’t worry on my account. I’ve gone without food before. I can just have the tea.”

He sighed and fished up a water jug to fill the electric kettle and flicked the switch to start boiling it. He went back to searching until, after emptying the contents of the cabinet above the bed, he found a single cup of instant noodles.

The look of absolute joy on his face made Doc smile. He was already used to him looking serious, hostile, sarcastic, or even cold, but this singular joy over a styrofoam cup was a new expression. 

He brought the cup to his cheek and nuzzled it. “Ahhhh, blessed Nissin sodium bomb. I would kill a head of state for 3 of you.”

The statement checked, but this time Doc thought it was funny. He chuckled. “And what is that?”

He held it out to him triumphantly. “This, Doc, is one of the greatest instant foods Man has ever conceived.” He handed it over as Doc adjusted his glasses to read the label and nutrition facts. “4 minutes and you get a perfect meal. Easy.”

“It says 3,” he said, amused. He then frowned. “Mein Gott, you weren’t kidding about the sodium.”

“Life giving,” he replied, taking it back and checking the box with plastic spoons for wooden chopsticks. “I could eat noodles for the rest of my life if I could.” 

The kettle clicked, indicating it was finished boiling, and he filled the cup carefully to the fill line before setting the chopsticks on top. He was about to tap his watch, recalled the swap, and reached over and tapped Doc’s a few times, setting an alarm for 4 minutes. He then took out a black enameled cup from a drawer, dropped a teabag in and also filled it with water.

Doc sat on the bed as Sniper took his place on the locker. He glanced at the cup, bouncing his leg restlessly, then back at the other man. There was a slight pained look to his eyes but it was obvious he was trying to act nonchalant. Doc tipped his head to the side curiously.

“What’s the matter?”

“It’s the last one,” he started, his voice a little melancholy.

For once, Doc could read the room, so he shook his head and hands at him. “Please, no. I’m fine with tea.”

There was a childish, chagrined look to his face as he bounced his leg again. “But when was the last time you ate?”

“Doesn’t matter. I’ve gone without food for longer. And you’ll need it more than I will.”

“You’re breakin’ my heart over here.” His tone was half-joking.

“Doctor’s orders,” he replied, crossing his arms triumphantly, as if he’d won already.

Sniper rolled his eyes, leaned forward to check the time on Doc’s watch and then moved to the front to rummage in his glove compartments. Doc watched the timer tick down to a minute, then heard the rustle of plastic and an equally triumphant “AHAA THERE YOU ARE.”

He was in the back as the timer started jingling. It reminded Doc of a small, electronic music box and he tapped the small red “stop” button on the interface. He looked up at him, and was met with a small, flat and rectangular, plastic wrapped object. The packaging was blue and white with what looked like a black and white cookie on the front.

“What are those?” Doc asked, reaching. Sniper opened the package and pulled out a round, dark colored cookie. It looked like a sandwich, except the bread was cookie and the center was white. The gunman bit it and showed him.

“You like sweets? They’re cookies. They got icing on the inside.” He handed them off. Doc curiously took one of the remaining 5 and bit it daintily.

“Mein GOTT, this is amazing,” he said, covering his mouth. It was sweet, and crunchy, and actually tasted like something. It was a lot of processed sugar, that much Doc could tell, but it was so new, and for the love of God…it tasted like something. Something real. Artificial, but artificial in ways that could only be from the imagination of a human, and not specs to be spat out by a machine. It was real, but it wasn’t real at all. A fairy tale made tangible.

The other man grinned at him as he snapped his chopsticks apart and peeled the lid off the cup of noodles. He took a deep inhale and sighed in contentment. He handed Doc the enameled cup, whom took it gratefully to wash down the first cookie.

“Never had’a Oreo?” That first mouthful of noodles hit him with such a satisfaction, he chewed slowly, savoring it.

“Is that what these are?” He took the package to look at it, noting the nutrition facts and finally not caring. To be fair, he could use the calories.

“Take it apart. I don’t got milk though, so you can’t have the full experience.”

“Which is?”

“Some people eat the icing first and dip the cookies in milk. Me, I prefer to dunk the whole thing myself.” He slurped his noodles and then took a piping hot swallow of broth. He burnt his tongue, but after a few seconds, it felt fine. He figured it was that healing thing doing its work again.

Doc carefully tried to peel the cookies apart and frowned in dismay when they cracked in half in the endeavor. He quickly erased the mistake by eating them and eyed another cookie with a look of skeptical contemplation. Sniper bit his tongue to keep from laughing and made a screwing motion, like opening a jar. The white haired Doctor got the idea by his second try and grinned softly as he pried the two cookies apart. He held them out then cocked his head sideways.

“Now what?”

“Eat the icing.”

Doc looked at the cookie, one half bare with flecks of white and the other with a round hoste-like pat of icing in the center. “…How?” 

He was about to use his finger to peel it off when Sniper let out a small peal of laughter. “No, no, mate, use your teeth…!” Even children had the instinct that Doc seemed to lack when it came to this confectionary. Sheltered wasn’t even the half of it.

“Pardon??” He looked down at the cookie with the icing and frowned again.

He had to put his noodles down to curl over his lap and laugh. “Oh goddddd. Doc…please, I can’t.”

In a huff, he simply ate the rest of the cookie and sipped his tea. “I fail to see why this is so funny.” But the corners of his mouth curled sightly. Something about hearing him laugh with his whole body was comforting.

It took a minute before he composed himself enough to start eating again. He took another bite then motioned at Doc.

“Wanna bite?”

Doc took a careful sip of the hot tea and raised an eyebrow. The gunman used the chopsticks to swirl a small mouthful of noodles up and motioned at him. Doc leaned forward and opened his mouth to take a careful bite and chewed slowly, hand to his mouth. It wasn’t as scaldingly hot now. The noodles weren’t exactly chewy, or al dente as he was used to with pasta, but the soft, salty noodles were a complete 180 from the cookies. A slight sweetness from a piece of corn and carrot was present, but most he could parse out was something vaguely chicken flavored, and salt.

Sniper’s head was tipped slightly, questioningly. The Doctor wondered if his approval was needed for this and he merely nodded his head.

“It’s…ok,” he said truthfully, worried it would disappoint him. But Sniper’s yellow eyes merely danced in amusement.

“Scratches the itch, but the real stuff is phenomenal.” He took another sip of the broth and sighed. “What I wouldn’t give for that right now. A real slab of chashu, a soft boiled egg, bamboo shoots…ughhhh. Moment we’re back in the States, I swear Imma find the first real ramen joint nearby, and spend the whole day there.”

The passion for food made Doc smile. The food at the Mansion was often extravagant, but Doc usually had no appetite. Even for desserts, which he tried to look forward to. The cook at the Facility was skilled certainly in presentation, but taste was always…well, rather dull. Not that Surgeon needed to eat much; food was sustenance for the staff, occasionally a bribe for the Doctor when it was needed (and it rarely was, or indeed, rarely worked), and just as infrequently,  it was a sign of prosperity for the few guests that came to the Mansion. Despite not needing it the way the rest of the staff did, Surgeon didn’t disregard food entirely. It would be unbecoming for a host to have a guest to arrive and not be catered to.

Food, like the opulence of the Mansion, was a necessity of appearance. And Surgeon liked to front a very, very ostentatious appearance.

“What about you? You got a favorite food you’re looking forward to when we get the hell outta here?” He slurped the last noodles and bits of veggies in the cup and downed the broth. Licked his lips in satisfaction with a sigh.

Doc started nibbling the blank half of the cookie in thought. “…hmmm. I guess not. I didn’t really eat enough to have a favorite.”

The gunman’s eyes dimmed in dismay as his eyebrows knit worriedly. “Jeez.”

He waved his hands again. “I mean…the food at the Mansion wasn’t exactly gourmet, despite the looks…. And to be fair…I’ve had a very small appetite most of my life.” He looked down at the icing on the cookie and tentatively lapped at it. He flushed in embarrassment, and glanced up. “But I’ve always enjoyed confectionaries when I had them…. Especially Linzer cookies.”

He chuckled. “Ah, so you do have a sweet tooth. Well, I promise you something when we get out.” He tossed the empty cup and chopsticks in his now filling trashcan. “On me.”

“If you insist. But I definitely want to try these with milk.