She's about to ask -- famine? though now that she thinks about it, that would explain some of the notes she's seen in Town Hall records from last year -- but as he keeps speaking, gripping potato and grater entirely too rigidly and focusing on them entirely too hard, what she's about to say changes.

"Hey." Her tone isn't sharp, but it's very immediate, as firm and gentle as a hand on his arm. "Cecil. Look at me a second, okay?"