Something about "the war in 1945" seems extremely off, but Chell can't quite follow what it is at the moment. Too distracted by the prospect of pasta. For what it's worth, though, she doesn't look pitying or anything. Maybe a little curious, but not so much that she'll bother writing out follow-up questions at the moment. He hasn't asked her about why she can't talk, after all.

And also, there's food. She gives him a grateful nod, bypassing the extra spices, and digs in.

Oh. It may not be cake, but fuck, it tastes good. Bucky, and her uncertainty about what happens next, and the question of what they brought them here and took Bucky's arm -- all of it falls completely by the wayside while she wolfs down the mac and cheese. It is distinctly unladylike and maybe slightly feral.