"Beer," Simmons decides with a firm nod of her head. She's always been somewhat simple when it comes to drinking because they could really only get a limited amount in the Boiler Room, and besides, she'd been thirteen at the time of joining. Even a thirteen year old eager to rebel didn't really have much of a taste for anything else. "I could use something to eat, too. I keep forgetting," she confesses.

"Grief does funny thing to one's stomach, I think," she adds, quietly.