Caspian nodded when Iris said she would try to eat. Comfort food was a real thing and could be a balm to stress and raw emotions when one was overwhelmed. He had a few go-to’s that he enjoyed, such as minestrone soup and chocolate cheesecake, but even if those weren’t available, there was still something therapeutic about crying into a tin of ice cream. He hoped that if she was able to get some food into her stomach, she would feel at least a little better, even if it was just a metaphorical Band-Aid for the deeper problems. Although he wanted her to open up to him, he wasn’t going to force her into it if she wasn’t ready.

He put a bit of space between them on the sofa and reached for his own dish, lifting the dome that covered the eggs benedict that he’d ordered. The aroma of seasoned, poached eggs, Canadian bacon and English muffins topped with a smothering of hollandaise sauce wafted to him as soon as the covering was removed, and his mouth watered reflexively. He set the plate in his lap and picked up the utensils that came with it to cut into the food. However, as he did, he noticed that Iris seemed to lose momentum and put her breakfast back on the table. Apparently she wasn’t as eager to eat as he was. He was too surprised. Whenever she was anxious, he’d become aware that she tended to skip meals.

[color=#b97703]“Don’t apologize. I’m not going to make you eat,”[/color] he casted her a smile in the hopes of making her feel a little better. While she had no appetite, he still decided to get started on his breakfast in the meantime. If their roles had been reversed, he would have been uncomfortable if she had put off eating for his sake, so he brought a bite of food to his mouth and chewed slowly as the savory flavors flooded his tongue. The eggs benedict was delicious. It was both warm and seasoned to perfection, and he wasted no time cutting into a second piece.

As Iris struggled to find a way to open up to him, Cas was patient. He didn’t push her to talk as he ate his breakfast, instead letting her take her time to navigate the uncharted territory at her own pace. He was shocked that she thought she’d never opened up to anyone else before though. Hopefully it was just the amnesia blocking the memories. If she had really gone for over two decades of her life without talking to anyone about what was bothering her, then she probably needed a therapist far more than he did. Gently, he reached out to rest a hand on her leg, offering her a sympathetic look, [color=#b97703]“You can trust me, Iris. I love you, and I want to hear you talk.”[/color]

The last thing she said caused him to take on a quizzical expression. It was too vague for him to understand what she was trying to say. Was the ‘him’ that she mentioned Ethan or Regis or someone else that he didn’t know? And what picture was she talking about? He squeezed her thigh comfortingly, deciding to press her for more information softly, [color=#b97703]“What are the nightmares about?”[/color]