[ She shrugs noncommittally over another sip of caf. It isn't likely she'll still be around come breakfast time — she has her own job to get to, in the morning, and she isn't the type to linger once the sun's up — but there's no reason to spoil the mood. She kind of likes it when he looks all pleased with himself like that — as if making this particular notch on the bedpost is something to be proud of.

Dryly: ]

Shouldn't you be resting up for your gig? [ Says Andy, the hypocrite who clearly isn't concerned about resting before her own high-risk gig tomorrow. ] Or are you such a good pilot that you can fuck all night and still fly smooth?