Through some way-- be it pure rhetorical and philosophical skills or blind luck --Loman said something that made absolutely perfect sense to Areva. If self preservation meant anything to her, she stood a higher chance of surviving longer if she didn't just forgo on eating and drinking.
So she finally leaned in and-- with minimal grace --shakily put her hands over the table and scooped several spoon fulls of corn onto her plate. She did the same with the mashed potatoes, and took one slice of ham after the fact. She didn't put much on her plate, as it was currently easy to ignore her own appetite. There was a glass of water already by her plate, as all settings seemed to have one. Before she did anything else, Areva took a nice long drink from it. It was the first time she'd had a drop of water to drink for a day and a half it felt like . . .
Needless to say, she emptied her glass without even thinking about it.
"I-- I'm--" she trailed off, paused, gulped back her fears, and continued: "I-- I'm Areva."
She hadn't started to eat just yet, but was already feeling better now that her thirst was clenched. Areva couldn't help but stare at her plate of food at first. As much sense as it made to eat to maximize her life span, it still felt weird. Like maybe this was a last meal.
"What's your name?" It was something of idle conversation, but there was nothing wrong with it. Heck, that's probably what most of the people here in the dining hall were doing! Occupying themselves with idle discussion and idle thoughts and idle antics, doing everything they could to avoid being like her, sitting and stirring and thinking about how scared she was of this place and what it meant to her future.