"No."

"Okay." She puts down the day they met, because why not. She finishes the paperwork. She gets him an ebook reader and digital books, because he is going through the books he has too quickly for continuing to get him paper books to be storage-sustainable.

That works.

Good.

She gets some more annoying messages. The adoption gets finalized.

"What are those messages about?"

"...My coworkers at the IF want me to recruit you for Battle School."

"Oh."

"I didn't want to bring it up at all until you were more confident that I wasn't going to kick you out to starve if you said no."

He considers, then says, "That makes sense."

"...Now that it's come up anyway do you want to hear more?"

"Yes."

"What do you know about it already?"

"It's a military school for smart children in space."

"That's pretty much accurate--the entry requirements are a little more specific than 'smart,' but what you did back there shows most of the hallmarks of the kind of smart they want."

"I should go, then."

"...Okay. There are some tests you have to take--they're kind of inane, but still required. I can proctor them here."

Nod.

She gives him the first test paper.

It's laughably easy, or would be, if he were the sort of person who laughs.

Yeah.

There are enough tests that even as smart as Martin is, they'll want to break for lunch partway through.

This turns out to be the case.

She vaguely wishes she'd been able to discern more of a preference than "food is good," but at least at this point he's had enough to eat long enough that she can feed him an amount not specifically calibrated to not make him throw up.

He continues not to exhibit preferences other than 'food: yes'.

Well, he can have as much food as he wants for lunch. And then more tests.

This is good. This will lead to an increased chance of survival.