[It's a still-small elf that comes to knock on his door. Even knowing that seraphim don't need to eat hasn't dissuaded him. He's carrying a metal tray piled high with homemade bread, a variation of space chicken and dumplings, and a little lava cake for dessert.
This is the kind of day where he expects people to want comfort food, so he has delivered.]
bishop
This is the kind of day where he expects people to want comfort food, so he has delivered.]
Zaveid? I brought you some food.
[A pause. He shuffles his feet outside the door.]
Are you hurt?