Lapis, please, she's a geneticist, not a therapist. Still, Diya takes that all in patiently, filing away the most salient information -- fly, use water, those are things of keen interest to her -- and when Lapis stops short of the exam table, Diya sweeps her hand toward it in an unambiguous gesture of now, sit.

"The malnutrition, actually," she answers, conducting her side of the conversation as though Lapis is being equally urbane. "The signs are there. If eating is so unappealing to you, there's always the option of a nutrient feed line. I don't know how much more pleasant you would find that." She waves her hand at the exam table again, and her eyes flick down to Lapis's bare feet. "Perhaps you would be more comfortable were you fully dressed."