"It's for someone, but I seem to have lost her." John turned the muffin over in his hands - the napkin protected it from unwanted lint when it had been stuffed in his pocket, but now the paper had been pressed down into the slightly-sticky dough. Oh well. He wasn't hungry.
As the patients went, Watson was on the lucid side. His steps dragged a little, but he was by far more alert and functional than the man across the courtyard who'd pulled himself into a ball and had begun rocking. John watched the fellow for a few seconds and then looked away out of discomfort. The asylum never seemed to run out of unpleasant things to show him.
"You can have it, if you want?" He offered the muffin to Zoe.