He hasn't gotten used to the idea that he can still go get food whenever he wants; that there's no shortage of it, that he doesn't have to save every last bit for a day he might need it (but he still has food tucked away in his apartment, just in case). Bellamy twitches his plate away even after Clarke has taken a bit, holding it close to his chest.

"So much food and yet you're still stealing mine," he protests, laughter in his voice. "Should've gotten your own."