He gave a slight, inverted smile at his sister's somewhat drunken form of affection, and leaned into the hug. The answer on his lips in response to the building management's form of tenant socialization evaporated in the trail of her question regarding his growling stomach. Whether he'd had food wasn't the question, and he knew she'd get upset if she'd known the kind of food he imbibed in when not under her careful eye - he just didn't know how to cook for himself, and fast food was, well, fast!
"Uh, yeah. Just a...some stuff, might've been a few hours ago, though. I'll eat some of that leftover pasta that's in the fridge, once we get back upstairs," he countered, then realization hit him. "Aw crap, I hope the food in the fridge isn't getting spoiled. How long have we been down here? Just a few minutes, right?"