[Not bored, no. She's interested in the way things work, something born from necessity (raised by a single parent on a freelance writer's income, replacing something that could be repaired instead had always been out of the question) that had grown into a sense of satisfaction about being able to fix things, knowing that she could take something apart and it would still work after she put it back together. Really the only thing that keeps her from gazing in rapt attention is that she's been so worried about him that seeing him this way is like rain on parched soil. The bike can wait.

Then, of course, the nasty little though bubbles up that he might be okay for the most part. That it's her presence, hurt and tiptoe-careful, that makes him edgy and odd. Damn. She takes a breath, snaps herself out of that train of thought just in time to catch the question.]

I don't know. I hope so, he's amazing. But I got the impression he's kind of a... solo act.

[A freakin' diva, actually, but she's grateful enough and likes him enough not to mind.]

I don't pay that much attention to the other departments. Is that weird?

[Is that weird, a holy vessel asks the living embodiment of a whole country while they're hunkered down on the floor of a lift in a spaceship, and she resists the urge to groan. What's weird is that she's been here long enough that she keeps forgetting it's all strange.]