Hawkeye flipped open a watch languidly.

“Say,” he mentioned, “since you were a bit too occupied to eat earlier, shall we get something now?”

Elletra, suddenly struck by the same thought and very aware that she hadn’t eaten for at least twenty-four hours, nodded eagerly. Still grinning, he jumped up and pulled out several paper-wrapped packages.

“Sometimes it’s just easier to make my own food, especially when it’s late. I’m pretty sure the captain knows, so I guess he doesn’t mind me borrowing some of the ship’s stores from time to time.”

With only the minimum of minor injuries and swearing, Hawkeye managed to produce two surprisingly appetising toasted sandwiches on a Byzantium-powder burner. They ate hungrily, the greedy consumption of toasted bread, cured meats and melted cheese the only noise in the huge hangar for several minutes.

Hawkeye broke the satisfied silence.

“So what did you do after you made your daring dress-rappelling escape?”