It wasn't the processed meals of the First Order, but it was food. He accepted the plate with a grunt that might have even been mistaken for gratitude, if she squinted hard enough.

"Water."

He wasn't a dan of Bantha milk. It was something his grandfather drank during his slavery, during the time before he became the man that Ren sought to emulate. It was a drink of weakness. That, and he really didn't like the taste.

There was silence while they ate, at least for a while. Eventually, though, Ren broke that.

"There's more to you than meets the eye. That much, I know. The big question is how much are you willing to tell me, and how much do I have to force out of you?"

(He wasn't very good at making small talk...)