[One bite, two, and a third. The energy bar's gone now, and the chasm in his stomach is no smaller. EAT. Hurriedly, Yoshiki tears open the next one, fumbling a bit, cursing himself under his breath. He knows this isn't the way hunger is supposed to work, but he could not care fucking less when he's all fever and famine. A car could be about to run his ass over and he'd still be shoving food into his mouth once he gets himself going. A freight train, even. The moon itself, crashing into the planet... EAT. These days, he finishes his meals faster than Link himself does. It's why he only picks and pokes at his food around anybody else, so they won't wonder what the hell's wrong with him. And there is something wrong with him. EAT. Polyphagia, it's called. That's the medical term for it. The everyday humdrum. And the symptoms--extreme, insatiable hunger. It can be a sign of diabetes, or hyperthroidism, or atypical depression. It can be a sign of a tumor, or a syndrome, or a metabolic disease. The doctor looked at his chart, looked back at him, looked back down at his chart, and then told him they'd do some blood work. They never found anything, of course. EAT. All he got for his trouble was a nurse quietly, clandestinely, sliding a little pamphlet over to him when he was checking out. He opened it up. Domestic abuse hotline. His vision went colorless. The bruises on his body felt like they were burning. EAT. But he thanked her, and then he went outside and tore up the pamphlet into tiny little pieces.

EAT.

Just as he's tearing apart the next wrapper. He has long since lost count of how many he's eaten. He might've had two dozen bars to start with, and at the current rate he's going, he'll be all out of them before the rain even gets to fall.]

--Huh?

[His mouth, stuffed full, makes it a lot harder to talk. He struggles to chew and swallow what's left. But he's reached a marker, a milestone, with a blessed modicum of awareness for him, thankfully, thank god. This superspiritual affliction isn't one he ever wants to dwell on, for as long as he's not forced to dwell on it.]

You... [He blinks a few times. The chocolatey grit is stuck between his teeth, sharper on his tongue.] I thought for sure you'd be asking me to say it again. You're never satisfied... [So why is Link satisfied now? Suspicious, right? "Something cool"? All of a sudden, Yoshiki notices how weirdly wet his own mouth is--his lips. He wipes at them and grimaces. The saliva, a streak, seems to glow in the hotel room's darkness. Ugh. God damn it.

He opts for a nibble this time. The worst of the hunger comes and goes like a wave.]

Yeah, sure. What's the worst that could happen.