The conversation is subdued for the rest of the meal, although no-one seems shocked by what happened. 

Kolya leaves the table when Honey does, despite not having finished, and heads out of the room the same way Kit went. 

Everyone else drifts away as they finish eating. 

Martin sticks around to clear up and settles into a rhythm of washing dishes alongside Honey. 

Once they're the only ones left, he sighs. "In case you were wondering, yes, that does happen often." 

Honey nods absently. He had almost wanted that to not be true, but words only confirm the nonchalance with which the exchange passed. He will have to work on his response for the next time.

Honey continues cleaning until there's nothing obviously dirty, he looks to Martin. "Anything you can use me for?"

"I can't think of anything right now, I'm afraid. But you've been a great help with the dishes, thank you."  

He frowns, the metal plates of his face shifting over each other. "Did you find somewhere to sleep last night? We do have plenty of empty rooms, but I'm not sure how many are furnished..." 

Honey shrugs. "Somewhere. Not the worst place I've slept."

With no task, Honey just sort of wanders off, meandering the halls randomly until he hears something that might be a crew member who could use an extra pair of hands. He's not expecting to find any soon.

Martin lets him go without comment, looking somewhat concerned but not enough to stop him leaving. 

The hallways are empty. The area immediately around the kitchen looks like it sees higher foot traffic than most areas of the ship, though: there's no dust on the floor, and the walkways are pretty much clear of detritus. Most of the rooms off to the sides seem to be in use, as well, although mostly for storage. 

Honey is very familiar with the sound of gunfire. Right now, it's coming from...somewhere over there. 

That was faster than expected. Honey heads towards the noise, not knowing what exactly he's going to do when he gets to it, if he gets to it, but still figuring it will be better than not knowing what he's going to do while walking in no particular direction.

What he finds, when he gets there, is Kit. 

He's slumped blank-faced against a wall, mostly upright, emptying his pistol into what might have been an octokitten when he started. It's not even twitching. 

This...is not a situation that Honey is sure how he can help. So instead he just stands and watches.

After a minute, Kit's gaze flicks towards him. 

Without breaking eye contact, he cocks his gun and aims it at Honey. 

Honey faces Kit and quirks an eyebrow, but otherwise doesn't really respond.

Other people being unthreatened by physical injury? That's somewhat new. Someone point a gun at him? Not especially.

Oh, well, that's no fun. 

He shoots Honey anyway on principle, then pushes himself upright and walks away. 

Honey takes a second to dig the bullet out of wherever it landed and pocket it, before following along behind Kit. He figures that with the mood he seems to be in, there will be something to help with, soon enough, though whether it will be helping Kit or someone else is yet to be seen.

The next time Kit turns a corner, he notices Honey is still following and growls wordlessly at him. 

Honey laughs, the same sharp, loud, singular laugh that might have been audible earlier. Part of him predicts this will, in fact, be unhelpful, but that part is less powerful than it would like.

With a snarl of rage, Kit charges, lashing out with the knife that's now back in his hand.

The first attempted stab bounces off Honey's ribcage. The next swing is aimed to slit his throat. 

The cut is ragged, but complete. There's a good spurt of blood or two, before it starts bubbling a bit. Then it hardens into a red crust, which Honey casually pats to make sure nothing is sticking out. He gives Kit another quirked eyebrow, and internally starts counting down to when his voice will be understandable.

Growling in frustration, Kit keeps slashing away at him, not waiting to see whether one swing actually did any damage before taking the next. 

As he continues to be incapable of actually hurting Honey, his growls give way to screams of pain and rage, tears building in his eyes. 

Part of Honey tells him that this shift in emotional expression was what this whole ordeal was for. He supposes that means this is broadly headed in the right direction, and stops affecting as much. He lets Kit slash at him as long as he needs to. The part of him that knows this is a bad idea has transitioned from trying to make him stop right now, to just generating enough sour-feelings to make him regret doing it in the future.

Kolya dashes around a corner towards them, alarm on his face.

"Kit!" 

At the sound of his name, Kit stops and turns to look at Kolya. His breathing is heavy, and he's half covered in Honey's blood. 

Honey remains as still as he was before, distant from himself, but despite the distance still finds himself curious about how the situation will evolve with someone with an existing relationship with Kit added to the equation.

"Kit, Honey doesn't want to fight you, and stabbing him more isn't going to help." 

A pause in which Kit gestures with the hand holding the knife, presumably accompanied by some kind of facial expression. 

"I know, I know. He's new, he doesn't know these things yet." Kolya briefly glances over at Honey. "For future reference, Honey, if he growls at you that usually means go away."

Honey nods, and begins processing the previous moments over again, in light of this new information. There is the regret.