He had no intention of contributing.

Reed returned the simulator to the case, mixed several of the blocks around and shut his eyes again. This time he worked without taking his time between each one, forcing himself to trust the first useful impression rather than examining every piece until the answer became obvious.

Interior access.

He checked the marking.

Correct.

The next took a little longer. He shifted it once against his palm before calling it as a partition class and confirmed that one too. Another followed, then another, until he reached one that sat close enough to a heavier structural simulator that he hesitated.

"Reinforced."

He opened his eyes.

Wrong.

Reed frowned at the strip along the casing.

It belonged to the heavier set.

"That's annoying."

The quarters offered no sympathy.

He turned the simulator over in his hand again, now fully aware of the difference he'd failed to notice. It was there. That was what bothered him. Once he knew he'd missed it, the distinction seemed obvious.

Which meant it wasn't obvious enough yet.

He put it back.

There was something almost meditative about the repetition after a while. Reach into the case, lift one, identify it by feel, check the result, then start again. The rhythm pushed everything else farther into the background, including the unfamiliar ship, the new unit, and the fact that Blackwatch had begun feeling more settled after only a few days than Reed had expected it to.

Jessica surfaced somewhere in the middle of that thought.

He stopped with one of the simulators still in his hand and stared down at it for a second.

No.

He was not going to start thinking about Jessica while handling something intended to represent a demolition charge. That felt metaphorically irresponsible on several levels, none of which he was interested in examining.

He checked the strip instead.

Interior access.

At least he'd gotten that one right.

Reed set it down and leaned back against the side of his bed, looking around his quarters properly for the first time in a while. The place was beginning to resemble somewhere a person lived, although only just. The crate was open, which counted as progress, and a few things had actually made it onto shelves. He had even managed to put one shirt into a drawer before deciding he'd accomplished enough domestic work for the day.

Across the corridor was 15-24.

His attention drifted toward the closed door before he could stop it. Three meters.

That discovery earlier had been entertaining. Jessica's reaction had been better. She had tried very hard to look as though the arrangement offended her on a structural level, which might have been more convincing if he hadn't noticed the little smile she kept trying to hide.

He knew better than to mention that.

Mostly because he wanted to continue being allowed within throwing distance. Unfortunately, he now lived within throwing distance.

Reed smiled to himself and reached back into the case. Work first.

He could think about the neighbor later, preferably over the coffee she had claimed she'd reconsidered and they were both going to pretend she hadn't more or less agreed to.

He went through the set again, this time making the exercise less comfortable. He dulled some of the tactile feedback with a layer of cloth, then tried one-handed identification and awkward grips that kept him from picking each simulator up neatly from the center. The point wasn't to memorize how something felt under perfect conditions. Perfect conditions rarely lasted long enough to matter.

By the time he stopped, the light outside the viewport had shifted and his hand had developed the faint ache that came from repeating the same motion for too long. He checked the notes on his PADD and found the results had improved, although not enough that he was satisfied.

That was fine. Perfect after one afternoon usually meant the test wasn't difficult enough.

Reed returned each simulator to its fitted compartment, lingering briefly over the two he'd mistaken most often. Those would get another session tomorrow. He closed the case with a solid click and finally took stock of everything else still waiting to be dealt with.

The clothing remained mostly in the duffel. A second storage container hadn't been touched. His shoes were nowhere near anything that could reasonably be called put away.

The demolition kit, however, was organized. Priorities.

His eyes drifted toward the door again, and a glance at the time told him it was nearly twenty hundred. Reed considered the remaining boxes for all of two seconds before deciding they had already survived several days unopened and could survive another hour. He had done enough precision work for one afternoon anyway, and what waited three meters across the corridor promised to be a considerably more complicated problem.

Coffee with Jessica.

Reed smiled to himself as he got to his feet and headed for the door. Somehow, explosives were easier.