"Get hold of yourself, boy." Clare said, beating the edge of her pipe, preparing to refill them, "we have more pressing issues at the moment."
There was a sharp look that crisscrossed the woman's face when she said that. But as Ham tried to study them, they disappeared as though they were never formed. The calmness on her face was a glamour that was all too familiar. Ham hated it when people hide their true intentions behind smiles. It was one thing about the Happy-Tech he was never acquainted with.
"Nothing is as pressing as my stomach," Matt said. The edge of his lips parted with a small smile as he set the plate on the table and wiped his mouth, "This food is better than what Boze and Xerta had given me. You said they are made from metals; can you teach me how to make them."
"Remind me your name again," Clare paused from refilling her pipe, looking at Matt now.
"Martins Zonna. Why?"
