"How am I supposed to eat? From the way you talk, I don't even got a stomach!" Alex flares up, seems to realizes he's taking it out on the one man here who might know what he's talking about, and deflates. "Sorry. Thanks for doing what you can."

He's not sure how he feels about "glucose solutions" and "protocols" (the hell?) being injected to him. That's probably how they were keeping him alive in the Capitol to begin with but still. Now Alex wonders if he should tell the doctor that he'd definitely tried eating and drinking - and it probably got ground up on gears or fried some circuits or something.

...That probably hadn't helped his stint in the Arena, in retrospect.