For a while, there's nothing but the silence of inquisitive minds poking and prodding at each others' communicating devices. For Dorian, it is a crash course in whatever manner of technology this is, but there's an elegance to the tapping and swiping that he quite appreciates. It's like drawing glyphs in the air in front of you, watching their mirror image settle into the ground - immediate, pleasing jolts of accomplishment. Instant gratification.

"Fascinating," he says, quiet but no less expecting to be heard. "And telling. Ship's Services seems to be catering to our needs, as she sees them, regardless how unfamiliar the ship itself is. I wonder just how well she knows them. Us."

'Ship'. How quickly does he fold like a deck of cards? At the first sign of foreign territory? Hardly! A ship among stars?!

But he's always preferred pragmatism to sentimentality. Always.