[ Michael sighs, sitting down on the edge of the bed, and moves one of the steaks to a smaller plate that he sets on his lap so that he can cut a large chunk off the steak. He holds it out to neesama on the end of the fork. ]

Shh, neesama, you have to eat. Okay? If you don't eat you'll get sick, and that wouldn't be good for mine and neesama's babies...