Terry took a seat back on the blanket and picked up a sandwich, nibbling on one corner. Ben was eagerly making his way through sandwiches and apples and marzipan, but Faustus seemed to have lost his appetite.
"How do you mean?" he asked softly, concerned at the look on Faustus' face. "How come you don't like the Great Hall? Are there too many people?" He hadn't been eating often in the Great Hall lately, so wasn't exactly sure what was going on. He couldn't blame Faustus though. Sometimes he didn't even like eating in the Great Hall, but tried to do so at least once a day.