Hickey's expression shifts to a small little smirk of a smile as he sees John eat. Good. He's relieved, though he doesn't want to admit it. After all, he didn't want to deal with any trouble.

"Good. Man back home, when we were in this scenario, he let his morals get the better of him. Killed himself, sliced his wrists, because he refused to acknowledge the practicalities of the situation. We are starving. We are almost dead. Leave your morality, your Christianity, all your little tenants of civilization behind and just survive."

Hickey starts to slice himself another strip of flesh, trying to ignore and brush past the tenseness in his shoulders.