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“It doesn’t get in the way when I take something to clear my head,” Cora explained, “but the stuff I’ve been taking is—”

“What stuff?” Signy said, coolly. “What are you taking for it?”

“Ginger.”

“I assume you mean the stimulant, not actual ginger.”

“What’s actual ginger? Like . . . the flavor?”

“The thing the flavor comes from. A plant with an edible root.”

“Like an onion?”

“. . . Conceptually, sort of, but they don’t taste anything alike. And also, this isn’t the point.”

“Right,” Cora said. “Um . . . yeah, no, I’ve been using . . . the other thing you said.” A lot of pilots took ginger on the ground, to shorten the comedown. Cora didn’t like the jittery, too-sharp way it made her feel, but it was legal, and she knew her supervisors wouldn’t bat an eye if they found some in her bunk.

Signy’s frown indicated she felt otherwise. “What sort of dosage?”

“Two tabs.”

“How much is in a tab?”

“Uh . . . well, here.” Cora reached into another pocket and retrieved a drugstore pill sleeve with a garish label. She pushed it forward on the counter.

Signy picked it up and examined the small print. Her nose wrinkled, as if Cora had just handed her the remains of a day-old sandwich that hadn’t made it to the fridge. “How often?” she asked.

“Every morning. Sometimes later in the day, too, if I start to feel messy. I know, it’s not good.”

“It’s more than not good. This’ll ruin your liver.”

“I know,” Cora said. “Makes me sleep bad, too.”

“I’m sure it does.” Signy handed the pill sleeve back and glanced away, her eyes chasing thoughts. “Why?” she asked after a time. “Why is being a pilot so important to you that you’ll poison yourself and seek unlicensed meds rather than go to a doctor and get a different job?”

Cora had fully prepared a bullshit answer to give when they inevitably got to this juncture. She had intended to say that the pay for piloting was really good and she had a lot of debt, so she didn’t want to chance getting stuck in a job that left her in a worse spot. But truthfully, her pay was merely good and she didn’t have any debt, and more importantly, now that she was standing here, she could tell that angle wouldn’t fly with Signy. That realization was a little intimidating—not because Cora liked lying, or made a habit of it, but because the honest answer was a vulnerable one. She genuinely had no idea how it would be received.

But then again . . . honesty seemed like a fair ask, here. Would she really want to trust somebody with altering her body if she hadn’t first explained who she was? Nobody gave a fuck when she went to the drugstore and bought ginger. Nobody there scolded her about her liver. And yeah, the drugstore staff were all nice in that fake way that everybody in customer service was nice, and Signy hadn’t been nice at all, and maybe she just wasn’t nice, but honestly? Honestly? That made Cora feel better. Safer. A friendly chat with a stranger was one of Cora’s favorite things, but with a situation like this, maybe finding someone who was mean and concerned was way preferable to nice and ambivalent.

Cora settled her shoulders. “It’s because of Colibri.”

The change was almost imperceptible, but Signy softened. “Is that your rorqual?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“Hm. That’s a sweet name.” Unexpectedly, Signy smiled. She was smiling now, and she was . . .

She was really pretty, Cora thought.

Signy picked up her cup again, her gaze drifting somewhere distant and pleasant. “I listened to Myth and Magic every day when I was little. I liked the animal stories best.”

“Me too,” Cora said with a grin.

“I figured, if you named her that.”

“She picked it. I gave her a few options, and explained what they meant, and that’s the one she picked. It suits her really well. She’s quick and beautiful, and she’s got a . . . a brightness to her.” Cora shrugged fondly, and stated the obvious. “She’s amazing.”

Signy leaned forward on the counter, her eyes piercing and inescapable. “And you don’t want to let her go.”