Leaning back with one arm over the backrest of the chair, Teja huffed a chuckle. "Eight was slow enough where if you didn't know what was happening, you were probably braindead. Thirteen was... tits and whiny teenage boys." He looked at the bags and bags of food on the table before looking over at her, "You know that neither of us are going to finish any of this, right? I mean, we could make a valiant effort, but even my metabolism doesn't run that high."