Fitcher's draw on the pipe is easy and steady and apparently untroubled by how he rearranges the angles of his limbs to fit in next to her. No, it isn't a surprise. She's good at picking questions he disapproves of.

(It's a pleasure to ask them. Feels a little like gambling.)

"Admirably sturdy brow. Excellent chin." She breathes out. "Shame about the zealotry."

She might offer him the short stemmed pipe while she's at it, but no. Instead—

"Raw luck."