Vice didn't know how long he and Davi sat on the floor while he talked to Ivo. He was just saying words to fill up the silence; half hoping that one of them would be the one that made Ivo's visible eye flutter open, maybe twist his chapped lips in a wry smile.
None of that happened. Eventually, Alina came back from wherever she had been, poked her head in the room and said, "I think you guys need to eat."
Right on cue, Vice's stomach rumbled.
Davi patted his thigh. "Let's go." He got up to his feet and held out a hand to Vice. "I'll make us something."
Vice took his hand but rejected his offer. "No way. I'll cook. I'm sure I'll manage to find something halfway decent in your fridge."
All they had was synth food. Protein extracted from who-knew-what, fibre made from bark of this and that, juices that amounted to nothing more than colourful chemical soups.