Phoenix is left wondering incredulously who starved this poor man. Not the guards, right? They've been pretty consistent about giving people their one meal a day. Not a feast, certainly, and not enough for comfort, but no one has been starving. Maybe this is a holdover from wherever he came from?

"Okay, Trevor." It's kind of weird that he wouldn't have a surname, but Phoenix has seen weirder since coming here. Plus, he has no place making fun of people's names. Phoenix puts the basket on the ground near the bars so Trevor can help himself and Phoenix doesn't have to keep holding it.

"Has anyone given you an explanation for what this place is and why you're here?" He leans casually against the bars. It's clear that despite being in a dungeon and not knowing Trevor, he has absolutely no fear of anyone behind the bars. He also holds himself with the air of someone who's used to being down here, despite the fact he's clearly one of the favored people and his hands are too soft to have been a guard at some point.