Gordian was quiet again. Ash’s orderliness and thoroughness were, as ever, impressive. She had laid the newfangled travel kit atop their dresser and loaded it with enough personal hygiene supplies to keep him clean and scrubbed for months if he wound up cast adrift on a remote tropical island, assuring he would make an impeccable presentation of himself when rescuers arrived . . . or the resident cannibals took him to their leader, whichever came first. Filling the upper pocket were a soap bar in a lidded plastic dish, nail clippers, cotton swabs, a deodorant stick, a scissors and tweezer set, a roller-type lint remover, a comb, a hairbrush, a toothbrush, toothpaste, toothpicks, a pack of Kleenex, and a washcloth folded into a perfect compact square. The pocket underneath held similar contents—sunblock, insect repellent, disposal razors, a styptic pencil, a small can of shaving gel, and a Ziploc bag containing smaller bottles of mouthwash, antiseptic, shampoo, and conditioner. In the open nylon pouch under the two clear pockets, Gordian could see an assortment of vitamin, aspirin, and prescription drug containers, including a vial of antimalarial tablets he had begun taking a week ago in preparation for his trip, and the nebulizer he used whenever his breathing gave him difficulty.

He watched Ashley in silence a moment longer, noticing she was holding yet another little glass bottle in one hand. On it was a homemade sticker he could tell had come out of her label maker, the word printed across it in red capitals partially covered by her fingers. In her other hand was a round, dime-size piece of aluminum foil she had cut from a sheet beside the rest of the items on the dresser.

“What have you got for me there?” he said.

“Let’s not change the subject.”

“I wasn’t trying,” he said honestly. “It’s just that I’m curious.”

Ashley shrugged.

“The bottle was a sample giveaway of moisturizing lotion,” she said. “I finished all the lotion and hung onto it.”

Gordian nodded.

“I suppose there’s no sense throwing out good bottles,” he said.

“None,” she said. “That’s a complete waste.”

“What’ve you filled it with now?”

Ashley held it up. “See for yourself.”

Gordian glanced at the label.

“Astringent,” he said, reading it aloud.

Ashley nodded.

“There you are,” she said. “You’ll be glad to have it with you in the hot weather.”

Gordian paused. Impeccably scrubbed and unblemished.

“And the foil?” he said.

“A safety seal to replace the original one.” Ashley said. She carefully fitted it over the neck of the bottle, pressing the edges tight. “If the cap comes loose and there’s a leak, it might ruin something in your suitcase.”

Gordian gave her a look that was perhaps nine parts appreciation and one part amusement.

“That’s very thoughtful of you,” he said.

She nodded, unsmiling. Then she twisted on the bottle cap, took the Ziploc from the second transparent pocket, added the astringent to the rest of its contents, and returned it to the travel kit.