[Something like satisfaction blooms in her, a seed flowering. Cathaway smiles as she sets the knife aside and moves on to preparing another ingredient. It's not a laugh, but the sensation is close to it - that, or a secret kind of pride.]

Yes, we thought the same. Every time a new host hatches, we have hopes they'll be a practiced person to wrangle the array of you. But it seems we must both make due. [It's clear they're in need a politician, not a war commander - Lexa and Shepard might have had their fair share of doping out orders, but that wouldn't stand to unite the disparate young Hosts.

(Not for the first time, she misses Sam Anders--)]

You know, you won't make new allies loitering in the Station like this. Not that we mind the company.