Junkrat looks up at Fareeha when she addresses him. That's...unusual. People usually give him a healthy berth at all times, and for good reason; he's not exactly the most sterile and stable company. He's immediately suspicious. Surely there must be an ulterior motive here.

His chewing slowly comes to a stop, and he sits up from his slouched position to look around at the rest of the mess hall. There are still plenty of seats left, so that throws that out of the proverbial window. Airlock?

...Maybe it's just that he really isn't that weird of a sight around here, amongst aliens and creatures and (ugh) non-organics.

He turns back to her.

"Uuuuuuh, sure," Junkrat answers slowly, with a full mouth. "Knock yerself out, mate."