Hawkeye was silent for a long time after she stopped speaking. He quietly rinsed out the tea set and wiped the pieces dry, returning them to the cupboard. He pulled a logbook out of his coat and made a few notes on a page already filled with elegant penmanship.

He wondered why she’d lied.

Was it me? Have I thrown this away too?

He just about managed to quietly say, “Well, that was quite a tale.”

She nodded, temporarily spent by the effort of letting go. For another few minutes, they both watched the slow progress of the brilliant sunrise to the east.

Eventually, Hawkeye knelt and opened the trapdoor.

“Breakfast will be served soon, if I’m not mistaken. I must complete the watch, but perhaps you would like to go down?”

She hesitated.

“You won’t -”

“I will keep everything you’ve told me in the strictest confidence, Miss Fiamma. Thank you.”

She made it another rung.

“I didn’t tell you my name.”

Those eyes were filled with regret.

“No, you didn’t.”