He roots through the fridge to come up with that chicken noodle soup, heavy with vegetables, and pops it into the microwave, peering at the buttons for a while as he learns this new (old) machine and gets it microwaving the food before he takes the seat next to Jim, setting him out a spoon and some water. "No, it's not my fault, but it doesn't mean I can't empathize," he grunts. "I know what it's like, losing your spouse."