There’s a few fliers around the base. “Wanted: Food.”
"Price: Whatever fuck you want."
"How do you feel about German food? I make an excellent bratwurst."
"Indifferent. I have no sense of taste or smell." He grumbled, throwing a few more fliers into the air.
"Zhen vhat’s zhe point of eating?"
He shoved a flier in the other’s hands, a frown on his own face. “Eating has become chore for me more than anything else, and after you realize eet ees chore you acknowledge that vun does not eat food only out of pleasure. I do not vant to die painful, agonizing death from starvation that vill repeat constantly vith miracle that ees respawn. I have tried dirt, paper, but I have started to become physically ill so those aren’t very good ideas any longer. My base ees out of food and being only vun living in it doesn’t help me.”