She sat down beside him instead of across the island, because she needed to be close to him in order to remind herself he was really there. (Or rather that she was really there, and not still stuck back in that lab.)

"A trade agreement could be good," she acknowledged with a weak smile. "I'm sure negotiations would be better without our good friend Mister Woolsey involved, but I'm sure things will work out." She hoped they would.

Leaning her arms on the island, the sleeve of the robe inched up her left arm to expose the last number of her tattoo, which caught her eye. She could never forget it was there, but it still looked so strange marked on her skin. It was almost like she was seeing it through someone else's eyes.