Can't do any harm. At least, I assume not. I'm pretty sure this body's not allergic to anything.

[Not that he'd ever thought to check, but he figures he'll have to take that chance sooner or later anyway. Might as well do it now. He sits down as instructed, watching her busy herself around the kitchen. He's fairly sure that he knows enough about humans to survive as one, but he's not actually tried to pass himself off as one in a domestic context in a very long time, and things have changed since then. There's pop culture, too, for the modern stuff, but he's not entirely sure how reliable that information is. Trying to memorise everything Anna does seems the best method of not killing himself while trying to use the kitchen.]

I hate all vegetables, on principle. Do we have Lucky Charms? They sound tolerable, at least.