"Sure." He walks off, whistling a bouncy tune. 

Ashes is where Honey left them, still playing with glass. 

"Hey. How'd it go?" 

"Better than I expected." He looks at any sculptures Ashes's has set to cool while he was sparring. "How's the glass?"

"About as good as I remembered. Think I'm done for now, though." They show Honey a row of little sculptures. 

"Want another go?" 

"Yeah."

His next attempt is probably still rather lopsided, but it's a little easier for him to be delicate now that he's worn himself out a bit. He even tries, cautiously, to shape the glass orb a bit once he's blown it some, though it can't really be said to look like anything in particular.

Ashes helps and offers advice, and is generally enthusiastic about Honey's attempts at art. 

Honey probably tried his hand two or three more times, producing glass globules with steadily increasing levels of intent to their shape. After a while he starts to have some trouble drumming up the modicum of creativity needed to make something other than just various oblate spheroids, and gets a bit unfocused in general.

“Thanks for the help.”

"It's cool. Thanks for joining me."

Honey gives a real smile as he gets up. He’s on a roll! He’s also pretty hungry, it’s been a while since that meal...yesterday? And even if he didn’t get sliced to ribbons this time it still got him peckish. As he leaves, he offers, “I’m going to go look for a meal.”

Ashes is busy packing up their tiny sculptures to take them somewhere. "Cool. See you around." 

They're quite a distance from the kitchen, and Honey has done a fair bit of wandering since the last time he was there. 

Honey got a pretty good look at the map earlier. Not enough to remember where exactly the kitchen is from here, but at least to tell if he's going in the right direction. He'll just head in that direction until he smells something like food, or else encounters someone.

Here's someone shambling down the corridor like a sleepwalker. Judging by his worn, stained clothes and matted hair, it doesn't look like he's bathed in some time. 

When he notices Honey, he snaps into wide-eyed alertness. His left hand, made of dull grey metal, is holding a pistol that wasn't there a second ago. 

Honey is, frankly, not especially bothered by the gun. "Hey, I'm Honey. I'm new. Could you point—"

At the words 'I'm new', the stranger's eyes widen even further.

His arm twitches up, and he fires. The bullet hits Honey straight in the chest. 

Honey winces a little, as much from the sound as the bullet embedding itself in his sternum, before digging it out with his thumb and forefinger, then pinching the wound closed until it stops weeping. "Sorry if I gave you a fright—"

The man started backing away when Honey didn't immediately drop dead.

When Honey starts speaking, he abandons caution and simply turns and runs. 

Honey sighs but is too hungry to bother giving chase. He just continues wandering vaguely in the direction of hopefully-food.

After some more wandering, he makes it back into the better-trafficked area around the kitchen. It's currently empty of other people, but the cupboards are stocked with an eclectic mix of food. Some of it is even recognisable, at least by category: meat is meat even if the specific animal can't be identified, for example. 

Honey isn't anything resembling a chef, but he's had to cook for himself plenty of times and knows how to put together something edible. Following his nose, he ends up pan-frying some of the meat, then cooking down the closest thing to onions he can find, before plating it up and eating it there in the kitchen.

Just as meat is meat, there are not all that many ways to design a stovetop. Honey can figure out how to fry things without much difficulty. 

His meal is undisturbed. 

He just hangs out in the kitchen for a bit, washing up after himself and letting himself digest, before deciding to go on a circuitous jog around the ship. He's starting to get the itch to try and be useful again, so if he hears anything that sounds like somebody in need of help, he'll definitely head towards it.

As Honey jogs along, he hears a rhythmic clash of metal on metal, coming from a side room. The door is closed and unlabelled. 

Honey isn't entirely sure what that sounds like, but it could be someone who'd like some help, so he'll take it. He opens the door a bit and peeks inside.

Martin looks up in surprise when the door opens. The noise stops, and it's not immediately clear what was causing it. 

"What—ah. Honey. Hello." He's mostly facing away from the door, but it's possible to see that Martin's waistcoat and shirt are undone to the waist.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm good. Just jogging by and heard a beat. Need help with anything?"