"I'm not hungry," she retorts blandly, pulling a face as she shifts another bottle out from under the blankets to replace it with an empty one. He doesn't get to notice her eating habits. They're not that kind of married, they don't actually love each other and her lack of appetite doesn't adversely affect her ability to do their job so he doesn't get an opinion.

(It does, obviously, have an effect on her efficacy and he definitely does get an opinion. Jyn is ignoring that logic.)

There still isn't any heat to the comment, however. She's too tired to even be mad. Which has certainly put a damper on the hate sex.

"Overeating is probably why I was all but covered in spit up all day." Jyn is fine with blood and guts and violence, but the disgusting smell of curdled milk spit up makes her wants to follow suit and throw up. No one warned her about that horrendous nonsense.