"Um... it's cool. I just ate. Can like, put it in the fridge or something." There are certainly a lot of used plates in the sink (on a list of chores to do, nobody puts dish-washing first) and it's hard to say how recent they are. She'll get around to it... eventually. At least she's feeding her cat regularly instead of leaving her to fend for herself out of the bag. (Satan was getting fat that way.)

She crosses the room to her purse, which appears to be fluorescent green and covered in cell phone charms, and pulls out a battered pack of cigarettes and a book of matches from the Vault. She smokes some kind of vanilla-flavoured cloves, they taste and smell ultra-sweet, and nobody in the world is surprised by that. "It's Steph, right? You were at -- um, we've met." She offers her the pack, although she doesn't expect her to take one.