Honey nods. “Sounds good to me.”

"C'mon, I think I left most of the stuff in my room so Kit wouldn't steal it." 

They lead Honey to a door a couple of corridors over, then tells him to wait outside while they disappear into the room to fetch the glassblowing equipment. The room, what can be seen of it from the hall, looks like someone built a blanket fort in a crowded antique shop. Every inch of the walls is in use for picture frames and shelves of ornaments, and every inch of floor space is covered with cushions and blankets. 

Honey nods. The room is interesting. Not terribly similar to any place he's stayed, but he supposes that isn't saying much, and the longer he looks at the more the underlying logic of the space starts to show through. If Ashes doesn't find the equipment too quickly, he might ask, "Where's this stuff from?"

"Oh, all over. I try to pick up something from every planet," is the distracted answer as Ashes reaches under a cabinet. "Sometimes it's a souvenir, sometimes it's a new art technique—aha!" 

They emerge triumphantly brandishing a pair of blowpipes, each of which is about a foot and a half in length. "Knew they were in here somewhere." 

Honey files the answer away, with the feeling that it will be important later. "So, where to next?"

"Now we need sand to put in the furnace, which...could take a while," Ashes says with a chagrined expression.

"We have sandbags, but they're all scattered around the ship as fire suppressants, and there aren't any extras in storage," they explain. "I've been meaning to resupply, but we haven't run into many peaceful systems recently, and warzones tend to be using all their sandbags themselves." 

Hm. "If you give me an idea of where they're stashed away, I could go grab them while you start up the furnace?"

"I don't think I even know where most of them are," they say with a laugh.

"Oh—but I bet Aurora does." Stepping out of the room, they lock the door behind them one-handed in a manoeuvre that looks automatic. "Hey, Aurora? You listening?" 

A panel on the wall slides away to uncover a screen. 

It briefly displays the word [Always] before shifting to show a map, presumably of the ship, with several dozen locations marked in green. 

Honey inspects the map intently for a moment, finding their current location (as well as that of the furnace), and of the nearest sandbags, and puts together model of the path he'll take. He nods. "I'll be off then. See you at the furnace."

Honey takes a stance, somewhere between like he's about to start sprinting and like he's climbing the floor like a rock wall. Then he flings himself down the corridor, sailing through the air and landing at a junction which he turns down. He proceeds to the various sandbag locations in this way, gathering up a half dozen before heading to the forge at a similar pace.

"That was fast," Ashes greets him. By the look of things, they've just finished lighting the furnace. 

"And you didn't get lost; I'm impressed." 

"I've been getting a better idea of the ship lately, and if I go fast, I don't have time to forget the map." He hoists the bags. "Let me know when to pour, I guess."

"Alright. This is the boring bit." 

It takes a while for the furnace to heat up enough that they can melt the sand. Ashes seems happy enough to sit and watch it, explaining the basics of glassblowing to Honey while they wait.

Honey gets into position to pour, and after a minute or two remembers to turn his face at least a bit in Ashes' direction to indicate that he's listening, but otherwise he's still, and maybe a little tense if you look closely.

Awww, he's so focused. That's adorable. 

"This bit doesn't need that much precision," Ashes says casually. "Not like actually shaping the glass. As long as the sand goes in at some point, it's all good." 

Honey nods, with just a hint of sheepishness, and relaxes a bit, though he’s still going to hold the first bag at the ready until Ashes tells him to do something else.

It turns out Ashes' method of testing whether the furnace is hot enough is to stick their hand in. 

"Yeah, think it's ready. Pour away." 

Honey pours, and asks a question at the same time. “I understand I’m not exactly unique in terms of toughness, but does that not still hurt?”

Shrugging, they blow on their hand to cool it. 

"Eh. I've had worse." 

Huh. He almost feels a little sad that he’s not the only one who was apparently tortured, though it’s not a deeply felt thing. He nods.

"It's actually a pretty cool story, although it's best when we do the whole song," Ashes comments.

"Oh—and that's probably enough sand." 

Honey promptly stops pouring. “Song?”

"Yeah, we wrote a song about how I ended up on the crew," they explain, reaching for an actual rod to poke the sand with. "A couple of us have done it, actually. D'you remember the song I was singing when you found me earlier? That one's about Martin." 

Honey mostly just remembers that they had been singing, not what. He nods. Privately, he strangles the tiny inkling of envy that he can feel trying to exist.

"You wanna hear them sometime? I'd have to rope in one or two of the others for most of them. Or I guess if you're around for our next concert you'll get the whole show." 

The sand is properly heating up now, although it'll still be a little while before it's melted. "Oh, speaking of which—anyone asked if you play an instrument yet?"