Instead of trying to talk around his food a second time, Zack only nods as he chews through another bite. Anything's good after going so long on only the most basic necessities - some days only eating what he could find and safely identify growing wild (which wasn't too much of a trouble, after his upbringing out in the wild, but no substitute for a real meal).

"Pretty much," he says, though that's not quite the right definition. Close enough for government work. "Sounds like you come from a pretty weird place, though, kid. There's no paper, there?" The thought's almost enough to make him feel guilty for all the times he's wished to banish all paperwork from the face of the planet. (Almost.)