At least she takes it. That's a good sign, right? R stares at Eponine, horrified she's asking that of him when she knows first hand what it's like - what it would've been like, if Maximus hadn't killed her himself.

"No...I..." R backs away, shaking his head like he's being hounded by flies. No, Eponine, don't ask him that. The urge to sink his teeth into something fresh and bleeding is there in the back of his mind. "Help. Here. Go."

R bends down and picks up something else from the lip of the Cornucopia, the box of powdered eggs extended toward Eponine, insistent, almost poking her in her chest. Take it, please, please, just do it. This gesture is universal, he wants to groan.