Relieved to see he was still where she'd left him, Maizie smiled, the expression feeling genuine and natural for the first time in ages. She waited a second to feel guilty, but it didn't come. "Of course it's okay," she answered.
It didn't occur to her that he might really be concerned. She was the one in a shelter, after all, and even now all her worries came from outside the LBJ. She hadn't been able to look at the Capitol anymore, even with all its amenities, in anything but an ominous light. The hospital, too, though not as much.
Settling back against the windowsill, because it was the easiest position to talk from, Maizie tried out his name. "Ezra. I've never met anyone with that name before. I like it, though. Thanks for telling me."
It felt like a tiny victory, finding out his name, because Maizie was pretty sure Ezra wasn't the kind of person who shared a whole lot. Not that she blamed him. It made the little pieces he had given her much more valuable.
Maizie held up the drawstring bag, which looked like it would fit out the window no problem. "Anyway, Ezra, I was just getting you this. Honestly, it's not much. A bottle of water and a few snacks -- graham crackers and pretzels, I think. It's all I had on hand. Do you think you can catch it? Or should I just drop it down?"