"Seems nice enough," he mutters. Uncertain, on principle, but what can he do? This is where they are, it's what they're dealing with. He can handle it. They're nothing if not adaptable.

But that doesn't mean it comes easy, and when she pauses, he gets what it means. It's some comfort that she doesn't lie for his benefit. After all this time, maybe that's fair. They ought to be honest with themselves, with each other. Leaning against the upper bunk, he fixes her with a long look, then nods.

"We'll be all right."

For a moment the old, aggressive optimism that used to come so much easier shines through. He believes it. Knows having faith-- that they'll adjust, same as always, they ain't ashes yet-- is the only way it's going to be true.