In the end, a free diner meal while he was working was still probably better than endless bowls of Coco Puffs and Top Ramen. Or maybe not. He wasn't a nutritionist. But it hadn't hurt him at all so far, so he'd keep on stockpiling until his body screamed at him to stop. He figured he had another twenty years or so before that happened. But he also hoped that in another twenty years he might not be a line cook at a bad diner in Repose, the middle of nowhere USA. It was a good place to hide--as good a place as any, at least--but not necessarily the place he wanted to spend the rest of his life. Not that he had a lot of choice in the matter.
Don't ask, don't tell. Honestly, the two could probably share all kinds of familial scars, but for obvious reasons, Sid wasn't going to go there. He didn't blame Jamie for not explaining further, and he sure as hell wasn't going to ask. He'd always hated people who pried, now more than ever.
"Uh." Sid considered that for a moment. "Honestly, both, but let's focus on the old people ballet." He was still picturing the tutu situation, and nothing anyone said could stop it. Once seen it couldn't be unseen. "There's enough flexibility left in their joints for that?" He was simultaneously impressed and concerned.