[There it is again, that wrongness in how she talks. Beckett pauses, and tries not to make it too obvious that he's pausing, though there's a flicker of odd wariness in his eyes. Maybe his tinted glasses would hide it. All right, careful now. Don't back her into a corner.

He needs to know, though. He's always been absolutely terrible with sitting on unconfirmed suspicions.]

I'm no expert on food safety. Does that even apply under these conditions? No items I've seen have an expiration date, and we are all basically living in cold storage...

[And now, casually as he can:] The finger must be a great relief at least. Did it continue to bother you, before?