[Door a solid barricade (she thinks of it as something immovable, some sort of promise that he'll stick around without locks or jammed circuitry) Chloe lets her grip ease off, goes to crawl into the lower bunk and presses herself as flat against the cold metal wall as much as possible before one arm is slid under the pillow to prop it up high enough to be comfortable. More comfortable.
Boots on, gun holstered, staring at him like there aren't seconds to spare.] Four hours.
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Boots on, gun holstered, staring at him like there aren't seconds to spare.] Four hours.