Sirius eyes the item Kell pulls from his coat pocket, a small piece that looks not unlike a sickle. He doesn't reach for it, aware that Kell may see it as some sort of threat or at least an encroachment upon something at least marginally valuable. Particularly here, where such a thing may be nearly all he has to connect him to his home.

"Potatoes sliced and fried," he replies with a wide grin. "They're delicious, especially with vinegar. Have you not something similar where you're from?"