[ Amos huffs, something between amused and exasperated, at the idea that he's enjoying himself. They're all just doing peachy here, aren't they?

But at the sound of Archangel's stomach — the fact that he's looking around for something to eat — Amos pushes his jar slightly in his direction. Here, have some of mine, because he knows Archangel, knows he's a good person, so it's okay to gift him some of his food. They're each other's people. It's just what you do.

(Though he'd probably keep a more watchful eye on him if he knew what he intended to use his sand for, because saving these people who are already as good as dead is a stupid thing to do. As it stands, he just trusts Archangel is doing the right thing — collecting as many resources as he possibly can — because he trusts him in general.) ]

I'm alright. Kinda wish it wasn't so survivalist here. That'll show me for getting used to the way things are back home. [ In Highstorm, he means. ] But eh, it's only a week. We'll get by.

[ It had better only be a week, but he really doesn't trust that otter.

Though for any annoyance that creeps into his tone, he's being emotionally honest — he is fine, and not trying to play off any suffering on his end. It's just one foot in front of the other, one day after another, same as just about anywhere else. ]