[ It may have only been a glimpse, but she knows an empty eye socket when she sees one. Nothing about her demeanor gives off that she had seen, nor does she stare— he hasn't approached the medbay for assistance nor has he slipped through the medical tents that she's seen, so perhaps it was an older wound. Healed, though newer, if the pinkness of the damaged flesh around gave any indication.

All she does is offer the bag of cookies with a little nudge, settling in beside him on his good side. She pulls one out herself to nip into, dainty little bites and giving way to a softer center than one would usually assume. She'd struck a nerve, though, in her playfulness— she offers up an apologetic smile with the bag. ]

I'm sorry, I didn't mean to antagonize you. I'm one of the doctors in medical. My name is Angela. I have the dog, the dark grey and white one on the clumsy legs?

[ She's sure she's asked him before if everything was all right, back on the Moira. His accent wasn't recognizable to her beyond "southern", not quite the southwestern drawl that her friend carried, but something a little fuller. More proper, somehow. ]

My friend is the one in the Santa costume over there, but I figured I would spare you the visit and give you some of the excess, or I'm quite certain he'll be seeking you out. You've found a nice quiet stretch over here.