Lincoln shut the door behind her and watched her move inside, curiously, trying to figure out what was in the jars. "Oatmeal," he repeated as he consulted the list. It was approved.
"It's on the list," he agreed. It helped him to have it, he thought. It was less overwhelming than having the entire universe of possibilities of what to eat. A nice little list.
"Thank you," he said, moving to take a spoon, and he opened a jar to try it. It did remind him a little of the gruel, only thicker, but it tasted nothing like it. He took just a taste from the spoon, his eyes widening as he tasted it.
"It's good," he told her. "It's... apple," he said. He didn't mean it was actually apple, it was just sweet like the apple was. "It's like the apple," he clarified. Even the little bit of honey in it was sweet to him.