"Wrath," Pride's voice is low, a warning note to it.

"Well, I don't mean any harm to any of you. I don't wanna fight. It's just that you get sensitive to violent tendencies when you help people the White Hands don't like for years and then exist as an outlaw for six months."

Wrath ducks her head slightly, lips twisting into what is probably supposed to be a grin - they can't quite move right to make it more obvious - and her eyes glow with an eerie red light. "I like her," she drawls.

"You don't like anyone," Gluttony shoots back. "Merely tolerate. Who're the White Hands?"

"The White Hands are the imperial police. The special police, who deal with capital crimes. Treason, spying, rebellion. Apparently freeing slaves is all four grand theft, kidnapping, inciting rebellion, and treason!"

All three women make low, hissing sounds at the word 'slaves'. (Although the sound Wrath makes is far closer to a growl.)

"I assume that slavery is legal where you're from? In which case, I suppose I can understand the logic, but-"

"Sounds like they're fucks who get off on having the power to fuck with people."

"Yeah, you can end up a slave if your parents were, if you were on the losing side of a border war, or if you get convicted of a crime much bigger than shoplifting, or if some noble likes the look of you and you don't have your papers on you. But if I get them over the border to Lyran... Slavery is not legal there and the White Hands aren't getting them back without a war."

"Alright, that's just sick. And people round here thought it was bad having to worry about slavers attacking. At least they're theoretically protected from it."

"Preaching to the choir. Things got messy. But I couldn't just leave things as they were." ...Nom. Food is good.

"Good war seems like it might be needed," Wrath says, also nomming her food.

"Did you want more?" Gluttony asks, watching Wendy eat. "Or something different? I think I have some of the cake I made yesterday left as well..."

"I'm good for now, thanks. Problem with war is I'm not an army and it'd kill a lot more than slavers."

"Your opinion on collateral damage is not relevant, Wrath," Pride snaps. "Although...eggs and omelettes and all that..."

"...I don't really- I-" Sigh. "I'd love a war on slavers, except the slave-owners mostly wouldn't be the ones fighting. Officers maybe. Enlisted charters are lower middle class, sometimes slaves themselves. And besides the really important bit of a war is what you do afterwards. Ideally, you don't want to set up another war to come in ten years. And I don't know how to do that bit."

"War is a good distraction for some nice, sharp, assassinations," Wrath almost purrs. "And then, you make sure everyone's too scared to try another war."

"Open war is a huge logistical effort that takes years, leadership, knowledge of the battlefield and enemies and allies and morale, and causes famines, lots and lots of people dying, untold suffering, so on, so forth. It's not out of the question. But it shouldn't be something decided over a conversation over stew."

Wrath shrugs. "I need to go kick the engines some more anyway."

She puts her bowl in what is probably some kind of automated washer, and departs.

"You'll have to forgive Wrath. She's kind of missing the concept of 'logistics' and 'odds'. Comes from basically being an anti-tank weapon I'm her own right."

"Panzer? I don't know what that means. 'Weapon' I know, though. Anyway... I'm not sure what to do next. I don't know the rules around here, you know?"

Gluttony pulls a tablet from somewhere, and starts to navigate through it. "As far as ship rules go? Don't piss off Wrath, don't go anywhere uninvited, don't invade the cockpit, and don't mess up afternoon tea. We're fairly easy otherwise. And like, there's too many different laws to recount them all, and we ignore like...all of them anyway."

She spins the tablet around to display an image of a tank. "Panzer," she says. "Tank. It's a mobile weapon."

"Oh, I get it, I'm a guest here, a refugee or castaway or what have you. Huh. Neat. That thing looks like a big fat target, though, if I'm being perfectly honest. Maybe the armor or weapons are good enough to negate that in a world without charting."

"Only if they don't have Wrath bearing down on them," Gluttony agrees cheerfully. "I mean. An orbital strike or shells will take them out but they are more resilient than a person..."

"...do you have any injuries that need tending?" Pride asks abruptly.