[ Well, now. That is something. Watching the way Amos's eyes keep tracking back to the heap of young Atirat in the corner, half-draped in blankets like it's going to keep their frozen figures warm -- like keeping them warm matters, whether they're aware or not of their circumstances -- Reigen keeps his own on Amos. He sees how his eyes wander, but he's good enough not to take his eyes off the man to let him know that he sees.

With the pot finally placed on the ground, he rummages in his pockets for the stack of soup bowls and miniature basins he'd also pilfered along with his supplies. One of them, he thumbs free from the stack, and offers it at arm's length to Amos. ]

No, I'm not. [ Doing anything wrong. Worried about himself. Fucking around. His face does crease briefly, when he's ordered around. 'Quit fucking around', like what he's doing isn't important to the Grand Goals of Zenith, Hail The Almighty New World. Like nothing matters, but getting to the goal.

With that, he points back. To the kids. ]

They're what's valuable to me. Look at them. They're just kids. Are you going to try to proselytize at me on the importance of a Zenith win, or are you going to help me feed these kids when I wake them up? 'Cause I'm waking them up.