She's been stewing on the pills for hours now, roving around the apartment in a dark and stormy mood. For a time she'd busied herself with tidying and inventory and assembling something resembling lunch before retreating to the shower, where a precious thirty seconds of mostly hot water was enough of a relief to untwist her out of a fury.

A reminder threatens to put her right back there, but she knew this was coming.

There's a pause, quiet and slow, where she fixes him with a long look, serious and damning. He knows she's about to piss him off, and she knows it too, but there's no avoiding it.

"Donovan's guy spooked and ran off," she says, matter-of-fact. She drops the ration cards back onto the table in a neat little stack. She promises: "I've got a couple guys tracking down leads, and when one of them turns up something, I'll be back on it, and it'll all get sorted out."