“Thanks, this is a great spot.” Rachel pushed back damp hair from her brow. “God, I hope we don’t have another riot on the heels of that mess.”
“Me, either,” Skeeter muttered. “Because now I’ve got two ladies to look out for, if the fists start flying.”
The slim surgeon smiled, dark eyes sparkling. “Skeeter, I’m touched, really. I didn’t know you cared. What brings you out here in all this madness?”
“Me?” Skeeter shrugged, wondering if she’d believe the truth. “I, uh, was wondering how many pickpockets and con artists I might spot on their way in.”
Rachel Eisenstein shot him a surprisingly intent stare. “I have been paying attention, you know, Skeeter. I’m not sure, exactly, what triggered it, although I suspect it had something to do with Ianira.”
He flushed. “You could say that.” Skeeter shrugged. “I’m just trying to make things better around here. For the down-timers.” He glanced at Molly, whose eyes reflected a quiet pride that closed his throat. “Folks like Molly, here, they’ve got a rough enough time as it is, trying to survive, without some jerk stealing them blind.” Skeeter shrugged again and changed the subject. “I’ve been keeping count of outgoing departures. I was up to nearly a hundred before you got here. Want to bet we get more inbound than we send back outbound?”
Rachel chuckled. “No bets!”
Skeeter grinned. “Wise woman.”
The klaxon sounded again, blasting away at Skeeter’s eardrums. “Your attention please. Gate One is due to open in one minute. All departures, be advised that if you have not cleared Station Medical, you will not be permitted to pass Primary. Please have your baggage ready for customs . . .”