Cricket's a little sensitive to condescension under the best of circumstances, and these aren't those. He aches, and he's been working as hard as he physically can, and the obvious uncertainty with which she regards his meager offerings makes him feel...tired. Just fucking tired of all of this.

He frowns at her, forgetting that he's intimidated for a moment. Luckily, though, his tendency is always to be soft-spoken, passive aggressive at his very worst, and the clench of his jaw eases after another breath. "Cricket, ma'am. Cricket Pate."

He licks his lips, then says slowly, "You ain't been starving before much, have you, ma'am? I, um. I have? So I got some ideas what people can eat when they get desperate. My Aunt Winnie used to make tea out of pine needles in the winter to keep from getting colds and such."

Shifting a little, he jogs one of the cottonwood branches with his elbow. "Used to chew the buds like candy when I was little. You can make balm-of-Gilead from 'em, too, but I reckon we need the food more right now."