[Though he doesn't laugh, there's an echo of laughter in his eyes at Will's joke and he shakes his head slightly, taking the orange juice anyway. The roll in his hand is warm and his stomach tightens in anticipation or dread, he isn't sure which. A part of him doesn't want to eat even now and he tries to ignore it, to push past the resistance and bring the roll to his lips.

It is the smallest bite possible, but it is a bite. Nico chews and swallows and his stomach doesn't revolt. It's a victory. The bread is plain and soft, perfect for his reluctant appetite. Inoffensive to his palate. It never starts tasting good but the second bite is easier, and the third. After a few minutes have passed, he's finished two thirds of it without complaint.

By then he's moved closer to Will, thighs pressed together and shoulder to shoulder. He needs Will's warm presence to keep him centered. The remaining piece of his roll is held loosely in the hand on his lap, and he takes a break, lets his head fall against Will. The silence is comfortable instead of oppressive and Nico uses it to bolster his courage.]

...I had nightmares. About being back...[He trails off, not wanting to say the name. Names have power and it's still inside of him. Besides, Will knows what he means.]

When I wake up, it's like I'm still there. Like this is the dream. That place is the only thing that's real.