"Thanks for coming over," Dillon says, taking Ford back into a little office off the main infirmary. He sounds like he means it, and in fact, he does. There are a few academic books and a few schedules, but it's more spartan than otherwise. Rather than trying to look non-ridiculous in Dr. Banner's Dr. Cambridge's Dr. Magnus's chair, Dillon just leans against the edge of the desk. There are two other chairs, mismatched, shoved in here for their last meeting; Ford is welcome to either.

"So. Tell me about the weapons you're - making? Have made?"