That is... surprisingly okay. Actually. Better than Soldier, by a long shot. Something in him relaxes that he hadn't really recognized as being tense. (He ignores the bit about there perhaps being other names. He doesn't want to think about that.)

Moving obediently out to the front door to flip the sign over to "closed" and lock it up-- it really could stand a better lock, he thinks; he could pick this one in under thirty seconds; and stronger glass in the window to protect it from being broken-- he considers "hungry". He knows he needs fuel at regular intervals, but he's not great at recognizing actual hunger yet. Possibly because he's literally never eaten enough for it to go away, so it's just a part of the whole mess of discomfort that makes up his body.

"I should eat," he decides.