"Very pretty, yes."

"We were taking cover in a flower shop," Zoe says, tone dry. "I didn't exactly buy anything."

"It's the thought that counts."

"Well, you did have a nice smile when I pushed you under that azalea display..."

"It was very forceful of you."

"I was in a forward mood."

"Good thing, too."

"Would've been right tragic if you'd gotten shot."

"Yeah, who would have driven the getaway car? Bina?"

"I am a pretty good getaway driver, you know. When I need to be."

"And it's better for everyone else in the car if that happens as little as possible."

"Or if we're in a tank at the time."

She gives them an unimpressed look. "I am a very excellent tank driver, I'll have you know."

"I'll bet you are!"

"I learned to drive in a bulldozer," she says, far too cheerfully.

"That makes a lot of sense."

She laughs.

The rest of dinner goes on much the same - the crew seem content to chatter without input from their guests, but Bina at least is fairly friendly when the passengers do want to say something.

They won't be getting through the wormhole until the next day, and there's another three systems to pass through before they get to Whitefall. Luckily, going straight from wormhole to wormhole is usually relatively fast - unluckily, the second stretch is longer, the wormholes placed rather inconveniently far apart. Their arc takes them fairly close to the inhabited part - a gas giant with several lightly inhabited moons, mostly turned over to mining. The ship's big enough to not be too claustrophobic even for the long trip, though, and they swing by one of the orbital stations around the gas giant for light trade - as long as it's on their way, doesn't hurt.

The fourth passenger, Lawrence Dobson, is quiet and reserved. He doesn't show up for meals, instead eating in his room. He doesn't spend much time in the common areas, either.

Except, well - this night, when they've just left the orbital station, as Ellie's walking back to her and River's room, he seems to be doing something in the cargo bay.

Something like... what?

Messing with - some kind of radio, maybe? He's tucked out of sight; she's lucky she saw him.

"Who are you calling, all the way out here?"

He jumps and turns, hand falling to his gun, eyes narrow. "What are you doing out here?" he demands.

"I asked first. If you wanted privacy, I would have recommended somewhere you can close the door. Perhaps your quarters."

He shakes his head, tucks his possibly-a-radio into a bag, and goes to stomp past her.