"It was an insult," she says, deliberately, her gaze following the wrought-iron railing with an absent and alike kind of mistrust; she really wishes they weren't talking so close to it. (It's displacement- the iron irritates her, she isn't thinking about whether or not she might actually get into trouble here, it's easier.)

She shrugs. "They hate all of us, 'xenians'. According to the rhetoric they left in one of the buildings they abandoned before the plague. We took what they left behind, blew the building. I'm interested in finding out more, and..." A shrug. "No one was in that building. Better luck next time."

There will be a next time, that smile says, and they're working with more than just rumours.