Billy could have hugged him. He very nearly did. Never had a hunk of bread made him feel so grateful. He tore some off, leaving the rest for when Stark decided he had an appetite, stomach both over joyed and protesting the first appearance of solid food in three or four days.
"Thank you," he mumbled, offering a small smile, holding the bread almost protectively again his chest as though someone might snatch it away from him again, "You should have some. You'll get worse if you don't."