Honestly, he’s not as surprised with her different form than most might be. Coming from a man who’s typically a skeleton, who serves a god who’s mostly bird, he’s not unused to seeing different shapes or unusual faces. He’s simply far, far out of his depth here- the realm of death doesn’t exactly throw beach parties. He can’t remember if he’s ever even been to one, out of a long existence giving way to forgetfulness past a few hundred years.

The projections are new, though, and he finds himself swallowing as he looks back towards the table for a moment. What was that? It was obviously directed at him. Not that he can respond in turn, he looks back at her, struggling for a way to explain his situation.

“I don’t, uhm— not very hungry. It’s alright.” It’s probably the simplest way to put it, outside of ‘I haven’t needed to eat anything to survive in over a thousand years’, but he’s finding that tends to scare people, leading to a number of other questions he has a hard time explaining. “You don’t need to worry about me. I’m sure I’ll come around when I’m, ah, feeling it.”