K is grateful when Jesus answers his question, lets him out of the corner he somehow found himself backed into; it lets some of the tension start draining out of his shoulders, lets him focus on something that matters considerably less in one sense - it's not a life or death decision - and considerably more in another - this is where they are right now, and this is what they're doing.

He finds himself staring at the pile of peelings, thinking the same thing Jesus had: it looks wasteful. "Alright," he agrees. "Let me wash my hands and I can do that, probably."