Without answering verbally, Billy pointed to the quarter of the sandwich in his hands, then to his mouth, managing a closed-lip smile so he didn't end up flashing Remy some chewed up food. Once he swallowed, he used the back of his hand to get any crumbs off before he spoke. "I can be," Billy agreed. But right now, it's more of a hunger issue than anything else." Now he was worried that there was too much silence. "Ask Teddy - blond-headed guy, tattoos. He can tell you just how much I can talk. He usually has to punch me in the stomach to get me to shut up."
Which...sounded bad. "Uh, not like that - he and I spar a lot in the gym. We don't really injure one another." Billy was more apt to take a bullet (or laser, cannonball, what have you) than to actually wish any ill will on his roommate and best friend. "Besides, he can't really hurt me. I turn to organic steel, so he's probably more worried about his own bones than breaking any of mine." There, that should clear up everything...right?