Did Castiel's answer mean that Jason was always supposed to come back, or had the universe simply screwed him over again by forgetting to send his spirit along to where it was meant to be? Jason Todd was so often the forgotten child in any scenario that he found the latter easy enough to believe. He was also, thankfully, well enough by no to recognize the self-destructive path obsessing about that thought would lead him down. He wrenched his attention away from questions of what might have been, if he'd stayed dead, to questions of what he would do now, in the moment.
"I'm eating. It's enough, okay?" Jason tried to assure the angel. It was the truth. Since he'd spoken to Dick, he'd regained some appetite, though not back to its usual levels. He made an effort to eat at least two meals a day, and sit down to a third even if the food ended up in containers in the fridge soon after. His kitchen, however, was still neglected. All of Jason's cookware sat unused as he instead turned to foods that were quick and easy to make, either things that could be eaten as-is, or after a quick turn in the microwave. Alfred would have tutted at him and gotten to work making soup. The old butler seemed to know better than anyone how to get through to his charges.
Ace, now fully roused from his doze at Jason's feet, sat up and placed his paws in Jason's lap. The second Robin ruffled his fur, and continued to dole out the food. "It's not that hard to win a dog over when they've got a good start. Food'll usually do it. Cheese and bacon are the Powerball jackpot for dogs."