"So there you are. Fiction writing." It wasn't what Billy meant, and he knew it, but he didn't want to dwell too much on hobbies and perceived hobbies. He did just fine; the fact that he could choose his daily activities, the shape of his day, was almost too much freedom sometimes. The feeling was almost heady.

"When you've had to experience your meals intravenously, you tend not to be picky about actual food." Cryo, and the sickness upon being brought out of it, was a bitch. "Besides," he pointed out, "I didn't expect you to be much in the mood for pranks."