“Gah!” He was jolted from his train of thought when he suddenly realised somepony was shouting at him from a great distance. They weren't—instead, he was right above him. It was just the air hose that made the voice sound distant and tinny from where it exited down the hallway, even though it sounded like Handy was absolutely bellowing at the top of his lungs and had been for a minute or two. Spike juggled the journal before letting it drop. He hurriedly ducked and shoved the book under the bed-frame where he’d found it before stopping towards the door, before skidding to a halt. He turned, scooped up the helmet, opened the cabinet, and chucked it in before slamming the door and closing the cabin door behind him.