Jak looked doubtfully at the chemical dispensers and gardening tools scattered across her bench. "You want to clean up first?"
"No." She peeled off her clingy and threw it at the bench.
Jak tried to cheer her up by doing a flip-scrape in the corridor immediately in front of the hydroponics safety hatch. He leapt upwards in the moon's one sixth gravity, flipped in mid-air and scraped the rollers on the bottom of his shoes across the white ceiling, skritch, skritch, leaving skid marks. He didn't quite stick the landing and had to catch himself on the bulkhead. "Let Random clean that." His face flushed with the effort. "That slaghead."
"You're so busted," said Mariska, nodding at the security cam. "They're probably calling your parents even as we speak."
"Not," said Jak. "Megawatt and I smeared the cams with agar last night." He smiled and swiped a lock of curly hair from his forehead. "From Holmgren's own