"About bloody time," Pollution commented, tapping out the ash from his cigarette onto the floor. He wasn't hungry, but that was beside the point. It didn't matter that the food wouldn't be nourishing, since their bodies weren't meant to be nourished. The point was that it was dinnertime.
He flipped through the stations fast enough that only the briefest sound played before the next was being pulled up. Noise pollution was tricky to maintain, but when he had it right, which was very possible on the full surround-sound entertainment system Damien had (the parts that were not in a state of "repair", courtesy of Death), it was sweet music to his ears.
He also didn't bother getting up to fetch some food. Famine would only yell at him for messing up the kitchen again, as though it were a bad thing when the oven had started to leak.