She shrugs. "I'm not a house leader. I don't make the rules. They're old as dirt, some of them, and their beliefs are even older."

Books hold a certain appeal at times. Something solid for her in a ship full of intangible things. Ghosts. Voices. The network. She doesn't like the network, despite its usefulness; it's too distracting.

"I had one once who thought she had to." Rock, rock, rock. Her boot slips on the floor, sending the hammock jerking. "Imagine being followed by a dog who constantly tries to hump your leg. Actually, I wonder if that's how Liv must feel with Horace?" She shouldn't snicker, but she does.

Velia falls silent eventually, watching him, her look a considering one.

"Do you have any tattoos?"