A lot, honestly. Most of it is actually gone by now, so he sets the plate off of his stomach. Or, you know, the mysterious lump that's apparently supposed to be a stomach. If you lifted his shirt up, you'd still find nothing there.

Anyway. The plate gets set on the table. He sighs and scratches at his cheekbone again.

"Nope. That's the other me," He says, closing one eye. Don't think he doesn't notice the accusation in their voice. "If you got a bone to pick, go ask him."