Mitch smiled knowingly at the girl, Anrah, both from her obvious discomfort and her confession of her lie. "I get that a lot," he said, in reference to her discomfort at his height, "And don't worry; I was Marcus TImberlea for the first few weeks I was here." Smiling, he pulled a chair out and sat, facing the newborns, with one led crossed horizontally over the other. He looked to the table and poured himself a glass of AB negative, took a sip, and set it down. It was decent, but he had... [i]different[/i] tastes. 

Looking over to the boy who's name Mitch still didn't know, he grinned. The boy wasn't handling his feeding frenzy very well, but at least he leaned toward the drunk side rather than the dangerous side. Nonetheless, Mitch had to laugh at his display, sincere as it may have been. 
"He's right you know," he commented, gesturing to the girl who apparently refused to drink. Then, addressing both of the girls, he waved a hand to the table. "Please join us, if not to drink, then at least for some conversation. I need to get to know my younger siblings, right?"