“No, she doesn't look like she's from anywhere near Central, does she? You a dirt-muncher too, newbie, fresh off the farm? Or are you more of a river rat?""Why?" Rosie said. "You looking for lost relatives?"Gillian snorted and San's face became an angry shade of puce.”

“Rosie, it's okay, it's me."She knew that voice. She pulled the hand off her mouth."Pip?"He let her go and she spun around.He smiled, blue eyes glinting. "Surprise."For a second she was too stunned to move, then she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tight, almost knocking him off balance.”

“Essie came up behind Rosie and put an arm around her neck, then took the glass from her hand. "God, I hope that's vodka." She drained it in one swallow and grimaced. "Definitely not.”

“Don't be a hero for me."Only for you, Rosie thought but didn't say it.”

“He took an enormous mouthful of grains, speaking around it. "You feen weddie?"Gillian raised an eyebrow. "I don't speak moronese.”

“Pip was trembling with fatigue. "I gotta sit down."He made it to a chair before he collapsed and Cassie was immediately there with a medikit, pulling up his shirt, examining gel patches. He'd felt them stop working some time ago and they were now dried and covered in dirt. "Stop trying to get my clothes off, woman!" He made a weak attempt to fend her off, but she smacked his hands away.”

“Hey, I'm still the walking wounded, you know," he protested."You were shot on the other side," Rosie said drily. "And since when do you and Dalton agree on anything?""We are men." Pip and Dalton straightened up. "We settle out differences through fighting and drink." He held up the fine crystal tumbler, then frowned at it. "Though maybe not in this kind of glass.”