And once again, he's surprised at Ned's generosity, half of him wondering if Ned has some ulterior motive, half of him wondering whether Ned simply is as kind as he appears to be. The fact that he doesn't hold a grudge for the attack is one thing; he's right, to some extent, that the transformations, the unfortunate effects, weren't the faults of the people who were unlucky enough to undergo them. Regardless, the fact that he's willing to offer not only forgiveness but food strikes Meyer as strange, out of the realm of his experience.

"I think my favorite's apple," he finally says, but it takes some thought. He likes all pie, likes all sweet things. Maybe it's a product of growing up in a place where food itself was scarce, let alone luxuries. Maybe it's that sugary food is inherently comforting. Maybe it's just the taste of it. Whatever it is, he'd happily choose pie, cake, or cookies over almost anything else, although lately, he's been craving cigarettes to the exclusion of nearly everything -- but those don't really count as food, even if he often eschews a meal in favor of chain-smoking and drinking coffee.

The question about what he did before he got stuck here should be an awkward one, should give him pause and make him struggle to fabricate an answer that doesn't sound overly rehearsed and suspicious, but it doesn't make him stumble at all. "I ran a card game. Nothing fancy, mostly poker. I guess you could call me an entrepreneur."

That's all true, strictly. He does consider himself an entrepreneur -- he and Charlie have always found ways to make money, though rarely on the right side of the law -- and he does run a card game, although that, too, isn't particularly legal. Still, nobody could accuse him of lying, even if they could accuse him of glossing over the darker details.