I don't need to eat.

[Do you know how slow the Apocalypse would be if the Horsemen had to stop and chow three times a day? And here War goes, trying the same thing again. He manages to stand a few seconds longer. It's progress, at least. He sits down. Grumbles internally for a moment or two.]

Are my clothes being washed?

[They were rather dirty. And a little torn. And probably long stained with blood.]