"There's probably one of those fucking mushrooms that have been growing everywhere, suddenly, around somewhere," Damien decides, sourness deepening. It has less to do with her, however (though, there might be a little displeasure there, for all that he's pretty sure he doesn't look like a waiter), and more to do with the mushrooms themselves. He's really not kidding about them growing seemingly everywhere. He's just glad this place or whoever's behind it hasn't decided they need to start growing in his room, too.

Fighting the urge to knock on wood, or at least on the leather of his brace, he exhales a heavy breath, and on it, mutters, "Hold on." He'll be back in a few seconds with a piece of gray -- something, broken off of one of the mushrooms. He holds it out to her, with a simple, "Here."

This might still be a terrible idea, for all that he's not entirely sure the mushrooms are edible, but it's probably better than starving, right?