It shows, but more because she knows him than anything else. The corner of her mouth tilts down, briefly.

"A coffee-machine, if the specs are right."

Her eyes flick over at him, but briefly. She's driving.

"It's not you," she says then. Guessing. "It's. People took photos of us, during the battle. I'm distinctive." Wry. "But the shots are crap. I'm just...

A bit.

You know."