After climbing down the side of the bunk-bed (and that certainly took a lot more effort than he'd planned, making him wince after he carelessly jumped the last few feet) to glare at the older girl on even ground, Constans couldn't help himself but look around when she again mentioned food. He spotted the tray perched on a nearby footlocker and regarded it with visible hunger, his eyes softening but his feet staying rooted in place. Too proud to go scampering for the offering like a servant child to scraps, he looked up at her again defiantly.
"They tried," he replied stubbornly to the girl's first query, "to give me robes." The last word he spoke as though to even utter it was foul, nose scrunched with disgust. He scratched his shoulder absently as his visitor continued to lecture him on his clothes, only half-listening as his eyes flicked back to the food. It appeared to be some kind of hearty soup with bread, and it looked good, and hot, which seemed all wrong to him. This was the tower, wasn't it? It was a prison for mages, and why would mages have anything nice? His blankets and sheets hadn't been all that bad either, although he'd still had nicer at home. Nothing here was turning out quite like he'd ever imagined it. There weren't even cells.
She mentioned the food again and his attention returned to her for a moment, some of his haughtiness fading away as his eyes scanned her face. Wary, he looked like a stray dog finding for the first time in a long time that the hand of a stranger wishes to pat rather than hit.
After a second or two he broke the stare, apparently finding whatever it was he needed in her expression, and with an air of careful dignity that seemed rather melodramatic from a twelve year old boy walked over to pick up the tray. He sat down on the edge of a lower bunk and set it on his knees, hand hovering for a moment before plucking up the spoon. He looked a bit ridiculous, sitting up so properly in his tattered tunic, and even he knew it, but it was easy to see how he ignored it for the sake of his pride.
"I just don't," he said before the spoon went into his mouth, steaming. His eyes went wide- too hot!- but although he made a face he swallowed anyway and soldiered on.
"Thanks," he added belatedly, looking up at the strange girl again. "For the- supper." He still wasn't sure what time it was, but lunch was his best guess.