Hannah had been returning to the cargo hold when she heard her name in the buzz of conversation—she paused at the doors to the catwalk that led down into the hold, head cocked to one side as she listened further. A new passenger? She brightened, careening down the ramp past the Captain and finally skidding to a stop with her hands clasped behind her back. April had emerged from the bowels of the engines, apparently, and was talking with the Companion who had been onboard for a while now. Hannah always felt like a bumbling elephant around the elegant woman—she wished she had that kind of grace and charm. She gave a little wave to Preacher, too; she wasn't devout by any means, but she'd been raised on Christ and bourbon and she kept up both traditions.

"Hi!" she said brightly, holding out a hand to shake to the newcomer. "Hannah, that's me. I can show you your bunk and the mess and all that. You said you had ammo? What kinds? I'm always looking for more. Got any large calibers?"