He took the explanation in stride. The popsicles were hers, given to her by the kid who was the father of the baby she was carrying, named Puck. He found it hard to feel even slightly intimidated by a teenager with that name, but at least the kid was looking out for this girl. He could give him that. "The luckiest," he said dryly as he opened the fridge door again to see if there was any tomatoes present.
Eliot snorted softly in amusement at her explanation. "The way I hear it, when you're in that condition, just about anything goes when it comes to food." His sister had been the same way back when she'd been pregnant with her son.
Giving up the search, he shut the drawer and then the fridge door, turning to lean against it. "Almost a year," he replied after a moment. "Twice." And the entire couple of months he'd been gone in his time had only amounted to a month here. "Some people get to go home not too far in, others get to stick around." He glanced at the supplies he'd collected and shrugged. "Not necessarily. I do but it doesn't look like there is any."