Ironically, if he manages to bring down a deer, the asset would know exactly what to do to make it edible. Scrounging up meat on the Western Front is somewhere in his brain. He just doesn't know it yet. But he files what Five says away to try later, taking one of those cans himself. The exact one Five picked up, in fact. It looks like some kind of beans.

Well. Even if it's horrible, it will at least hopefully make him feel better. He is desperately in need of nutrients, and it's not like he's had to worry about taste any time that he can remember. "Skillet over a fire. Okay."

And just in case, he shifts the can to his right hand, pulls off his left glove, and gives the top of the can a poke with his metal thumb, pressing until it dents a little. Good, he can get it open without dulling his knife, he thinks. (Enjoy that sight, Five. Your companion has a whole-ass metal hand.)