This is all.. weird. And not just sitting down to eat with two other versions of himself. The apartment is warm and homey, there's freshly made food and voices that are kind.

He hasn't had this in so very long Barry isn't sure if he wants to run from it or bury himself in it.

Then his stomach reminds him that maybe he should stop thinking and just eat. And he eats. And eats. And the food is better than good, it's amazing. Tender chicken, soft crust, bright and sweet vegetables.

"I can't remember the last time I was actually full." Then Barry is up in a blur, dishes done in a moment because that's easier than thinking about his past or facing more questions.

It's also the closest he can manage to a thank you.