Catra takes a sip of hot coffee between bites of her sandwich. It's definitely hot and bitter, but in a way that's kind of pleasing? She hmms and nods.

"This is pretty good," she says. Catra is quiet for a long, long moment as she contemplates her food, then says in a quiet voice:

"Thanks. For the food." She says it as if the words might cause some sort of catastrophic failure where all these good things from the last few minutes are taken away. She doesn't know what else to say. Or how to say it. She hesitates, then:

"...Is there something you want?"