[one of her ears twitches forward involuntarily at the sound, but she's careful to keep a straight face in an effort to stabilize his fluster levels. She looks at the bread.]

Ah—good. I've got this soup—[she fidgets with the pull tab on the can, finally peeling the top away with a snap]—and some little sausages. Put them together, and I reckon we've got a decent meal.

[or, at least, the closest they can get to one. She tips the soup into the pot: it's cold and congealed, but it smells all right, and her mouth starts to water immediately. She shifts the little can of vienna sausages over to Armin, then takes a metal spoon out of her pack and starts scraping out every bit of leftover soup from the can into the pot.]

Here—open those. See if they're still good.