"Sure, shoot." Hank says, filling out a form to line up Abner some reserves.

He wonders how much is true, the stories he's heard about places in the wasteland that wouldn't feed their prisoners. Probably true in some cases, but he's come to realize that some prisoners would rather be starving than what they go through here. He'd always thought the Enclave was pretty humane.

Shock of shocks. It's not. Fuck the rhetoric that his old man told him.

But it still means he has more food to pass on to Abner readily on hand, and he's ready to answer. It might give him something else to think about.