Clearly you haven't read about the right cults. Cults and death are like peanut butter and jelly.

[But that's a morbid subject, so he just laughs it off, sitting in companionable silence, until---oh right. The soup! He leaps off the couch to get that sorted, returning with a fresh bowl.]

Lemme know if you want some more spice. I loaded mine with peppers, but I didn't know if you were up to that.

Uh...how're you feeling, anyway?

[He's awkward about fussing over him, but he can't quite stop.]