[It could be both. Especially given his answer starts out snappish. He's technically a little behind her in timeline, but he hasn't been doing much in the way of mitigating symptoms. So—]

Well, I could really go for a chili dog, if you're asking.

[Or like. A dozen. This doesn't quite have the right amount of humor in it. Comes out a little more acidic than he probably means it while he's still swallowing this new measure of added outrage on her behalf. He bites down on it and backs himself up.

He could be a hypocrite and give her the runaround. Or he could lie and tell her he's fine—play dumb until later to spare her the stress of one more thing to worry about. But she's a smart girl. And as bittersweet and experimental as it is to know she would worry about him, denial doesn't really help anything right now.

He closes his eyes and exhales, sharp and short.]

Been that way for a week or two. Maybe more. I wasn't sure until recently.

[Good thing misery loves company.]