He catches it easily enough; say what one might about Ralston, but his reflexes—including the physical ones—aren't slow. Merely desperately off putting to most sensibilities.

Case in point: the thing which flares in his face runs distinctly along the lines of a flicker of surprise chased by a more obvious resentment, his keen expression slanting in some stormier direction even as he turns the orange in his hand and sets it on the bench beside him.

"Here I was growing concerned that I might starve to death."

Obviously he's staying.