And those were the last spoken words he heard that night. For the next hour, he would be sitting stock still underneath the counter of the ship's galley, the waves rocking the boat gently underneath, and a moping bat pony sitting just above him. The moping bat pony, who sat there in silence, chewing away on a piece of bread. Whatever internal conflict that was raging within her hadn't let up just because Sergeant Smirks-a-Lot left the room. And as uncomfortable as that unwitting company was, it left Handy alone in the quiet, with only his thoughts for company.