beneath, a lucid moon

“Pork.”

Yang Rong hands him a pig bone. Or, it 'should' be a pig bone, but the thing itself is abnormally large. It is unclear which cut of the animal it is – hindleg, likely, but Noah is certain that regular pigs do not have spiked skin. It 'looks' edible and while it is bigger than the colonel’s whole forearm, the meat is roasted rather nicely. Golden brown, crispy on the outside and juicy on the inside, the overflowing whiteish fat oozing down the skin.

It drips onto the floor and the scent of it is akin to hog manure. If the foulness of it isn’t enough to put him off, it’d be the unplucked fur on its skin, right on the strange little trypophobic spikes. Sure, the spikes look soft and can potentially be peeled off – but the point is that Yang Rong is insistent on feeding him some extraterrestrial creature, radioactivity level unknown.

Noah, who hasn’t eaten in a forgotten number of days, isn’t appetized in the slightest.

“…No.”