Don’t falter. Don’t speak too quickly. Don’t linger on the treasure trove of information she just revealed. Don’t forget a word of it. Don’t relax the finger on the button. Don’t let a knuckle show white. 

One hoof in front of the other. The guns will fire when they will. And he will put one hoof in front of the other.

“Independent individual, no government post. Between jobs. Formerly a chef. Crew recovered you from a frozen chunk of Architect’s station, floating through space.” She can draw plenty from that information. Yet her hands still move without telegraphing reason, and they constantly threaten to slip from his eyes. Don’t stop. Don’t lose the rhythm. “Please have patience. More to share. Information truncated to not overwhelm. Unsure of how esoteric would leave your mental state.”