With an arch expression, Sparrow said, “Don’t take it so seriously, Doc. I’m just ribbing you. If—”

Vishal faced her. “Well please don’t, Ms. Sparrow. There is none of this ribbing with anyone else, so I would thank you to treat me with the same respect as I treat you. Yes. Thank you.” And with that, he went back to eating.

Sparrow seemed embarrassed and taken aback. Then Falconi gave her a warning look, and she cleared her throat and said, “Sheesh. If you feel so strongly about it, Doc, then—”

“I do,” said Vishal with definitive firmness.

“Uh, then sorry. Won’t happen again.”

Vishal nodded and continued eating.

Good for him, Kira thought dully. She noticed a small smile on Nielsen’s face, and after a few minutes, the first officer got up and went to sit next to Vishal and started talking with him in a low tone.

Soon after, Sparrow left to check on the Jelly.

Everyone had finished eating, and Nielsen and Vishal were washing up, when Falconi trudged over to Kira and carefully lowered himself onto the floor next to her.

She watched without much curiosity.

He didn’t meet her gaze but stared somewhere at the ceiling across the room and scratched the day-old stubble on his neck. “You going to tell me what’s bothering you, or do I have to pry it out of you?”

Kira didn’t feel like talking. The truth about the nightmares was still too raw and immediate, and—if she was honest with herself—it made her feel ashamed. Also, she was tired, tired right down her to bones. Having a difficult, emotional discussion felt like more than she could deal with at the moment.

So, she deflected. Motioning at the holos, she said, “That’s what’s bothering me. What do you think? Everything’s gone wrong.”

“Bullshit,” Falconi said in a friendly tone. He gave her a look from under his dark brows, the blue of his eyes deep and clear. “You’ve been off ever since we got back from that Jelly ship. What is it? Your arm?”

“Sure, my arm. That’s it.”

A crooked smile appeared on his face, but there wasn’t much humor to his expression. “Right. Okay. If that’s the way you’re going to be.” He undid a pocket on his jacket and slapped a deck of cards down onto the floor between them. “Ever play Scratch Seven?”

Kira eyed him, wary. “No.”

“I’ll teach you then. It’s pretty simple. Play a round with me. If I win, you answer my question. If you win, I’ll answer any question you want.”

“Sorry. I’m not in the mood.” She started to stand, and Falconi’s hand closed about her left wrist, stopping her.

Without thinking, Kira formed a cuff of spikes around her wrist, spikes sharp enough to cause discomfort though not sharp enough to draw blood.

Falconi winced but kept hold of her. “Neither am I,” he said, his voice low, his expression serious. “Come on, Kira. What are you afraid of?”