“Honey?” Hank peered into the kitchen, hearing someone throwing things around and swearing. Only he was finding it hard to believe it was Zoe, even from the voice. Maybe River was teasing him. Or perhaps Jayne had learned ventriloquism, even if he couldn’t spell it. Or even Simon, having caught himself somewhere tender down in the infirmary and then come upstairs to get a palliative cup of coffee. “Is that you?”

Zoe leaned over the counter and glared at him. “Who else would it be?”

He decided not to go through the various options that had passed across his mind. Instead he smiled. “How did it go?”

She didn’t answer, just pulled back and started slamming the cupboard doors again.

Ah. That good. Fine. In fact, shiny. Perhaps it was time to go and get the body armour out. Wondering whether this was in fact anything like a good idea, he stepped down into the galley and sat at the table, his arms on the old wood, hands clasped lightly in front of him.

It took almost a minute for her to notice him.

“What?” she demanded.

“Nothing.” He smiled a little. “Just waiting.”

“What for?”

“My wife to come back. Do you think she’ll be long?”

The look on Zoe’s face almost ignited his clothing, then it softened, and she finally gave a small grin and shook her head. “I think she’s on her way.”

He was glad to have diffused … whatever it was. “Good.”

“Sorry.”

“No need to apologise. I too occasionally feel the need to turn the air blue and chuck a few things at the wall. Although I tend to do it on the bridge, with the door locked so no-one can hear me. And I clean up afterwards too.”

She glanced around the kitchen area. “I don’t think I broke anything.”

“It didn’t sound like it was through lack of trying.”

She chuckled, a welcome sound that warmed him through. “I know.”

“So would you like to tell your husband what the matter is?”

“I suppose.” She rounded the end of the counter and sat next to him.

His chair squealed as he moved it closer so that their th