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[center]Included - [@Crossfire][/center]

Food, at the mention of nourishment Willow felt a sting in his stomach. Indeed, he didn't eat much but ample time had passed since the last time he indulged. It was an odd sensation, to have someone at his door with food. Though, not because of the act itself. The time spent at the laboratory he knew as home left someone outside his cell door quite often with a plate scarce with an intake of nourishment. No, this time, a crew mate came to Willow through the thoughts of a heart. Care, that was a new sensation to wash over the young man. A pale hand reached for the door to remove the confines which otherwise separated himself, from the crew mate known as Stryker. 

Battle scarred, experienced and intimidating, Stryker drew a picture expected from a warrior. Yes, a soldier. He was here because of his skills, because of what he offered in terms of experience, and prowess. Now, that was quite the contrast from Willow's presence, his part of the team narrowed down to an alien virus which not only inhabited his body, but was part of it. In a way, Willow felt like he was cheating. Quite the odd thought to come to mind, but everyone else was here because of hard work. It was this, or rotting in prison. The death sentence was also an option, which was worthy of note. For Willow however, he was here because his body happened to connect with a virus no one could fully understand. Had he not killed those scientists, including his father, he would not have been here. He would have remained at the operating table, a thought which forced the young man to tense in response.

"Thanks," Willow spoke softly, lowering his headset to his neck before slender fingers came to accept the platter Stryker had brought. "That's fine," he continued at the mention of a firing range. While silence was a comfort at times, so were loud noises. The boy did at times need a pause from the voices echoing throughout his head at this very moment. 

[i]"Poor little friends."[/i] They began, [i]"when will you slip up Willow? When will you kill, disfigure, raise..., when will you destroy, infect, and rot..., when will they start hating you? When..., when?[/i] the voices clawed at the boy's sanity, causing him to clench his teeth with a breath escaping his lips. He couldn't let them win. He couldn't let them overcome him. If he shut himself off completely, they would. If he pushed everyone away, missions would suffer because no one would be able to trust him in the midst of combat. He had fought his way out of that operating room because he wanted to live. He had come this far, because death was yet to claim him. 

"Sure," he finally spoke after a short pause, the battle with his internal acquaintances coming to a temporary pause. He would join the rest of crew, if only to see how long he could manage this.