[ Up until Jiaoqiu actually hands the bowl of soup over, Wolfwood's still half-convinced that this is all just some kind of cruel joke. He'll hold the food back and demand answers, promises, something. People, deep down, are mean and manipulative -- he's been told that (and shown it) ever since he was a child, and he hasn't seen much to dispel the notion.

Even with the steaming bowl in hand, all but shaking from the good smells coming off of it, Wolfwood doesn't eat. It's for his recovery, Jiaoqiu said, and Wolfwood's known too many doctors to trust that statement. ]

And what else?

[ Damn but it smells so good! It's a form of torture to stand here holding the bowl and not doing anything but smelling the rich scent, but a lifetime of paranoia isn't dismissed so easily. ]

Sedatives? ...No, no need to knock me out when I'm already locked up, right? So mood stabilizers then? Somethin' to keep me placid so I can get put back to work?

[ It smells so good. He's going to eat it -- they both know this -- but he at least wants to know what he's eating. ]