"Somehow, I'm not surprised." He ruffles Pidge's hair, doing his best to kick his brain into gear. They're not out of the metaphorical woods yet, and he can't afford to be in pieces. "We should find a place to hunker down for a while. We both need rest, and you still need to eat." He hasn't forgotten about that wasted MRE lying in a hall somewhere. Pidge was already running on fumes and frustration, and stress and adrenaline would have wrecked any energy reserves she had left.

(He's not thinking about himself, of course. He ate this morning. He's been through worse. He'll be fine.)