[Getting hit in the arm with a paper airplane snaps him out of his funk a little. What on earth?

He unfolds it and sees that it's just a question about dinner. Trust Roxas to decide that "not wanting to talk" means "communicate through paper airplanes."]

You can just ask, you know. I have to answer, after all. And no, I'm too tired to eat. Just make something for yourself. [He sighs.] I'm not mad at you, stupid.