"Nah," he says warmly, "I don't think it's too soon. Trust your brother's instinct and yours. There's no timeline for this stuff, especially not in a place like this. Carpe diem, brother."

Crichton chuckles as he sets down a fully loaded plate in front of Rex, and then a slightly less loaded one opposite him. The mystery of why is short-lived because Runt invites himself onto the chair, using his many legs to leverage his long body up and over. He can eat at the big boy table.

"Not enough people appreciate what a difference a taste of home can make. When I was stuck out in space, I used to dream of coming home on a Thanksgiving just to gobble everything on the table. 'Least we got cornbread here."