Though James' words were not directed at him, Adam behaved to some extent as if they were. They were reasonably sensible, after all: Take out your food, make a show of eating in spite of the palpable tension in the room, pretend everything is normal when it is anything but. Too, it helped him avoid James' piercing glare, busied him so he did not have to see the hurt in Alex's eyes. He had seen no better way out of the corner he'd found himself in, but now he regretted the choice he'd made. He would have given much to see James have one wholly uncharacteristic moment of consideration, just one flash of insight and wisdom, and get up and leave the two of them in peace. Then perhaps he would have an outside chance at setting this to rights. As it was, though...
With far more delicacy than the task required, Adam withdrew the remainder of his food from the bag. He sipped half-heartedly at his milkshake, shallow little sucks at the straw that drew his pale cheeks in, casting them even deeper in shadow than was usual. With open dialogue removed as an option, Adam wanted nothing more than to get up and slink out, letting the door close behind him without a sound. But this, too, was not his to wish for. So instead he nibbled at a fry, intently avoiding James' gaze all the while.
"It's very good," he agreed, quirking a weak smile. He chuckled, gazing down at his own plate. "Comfort food, they say."