He put his toothbrush and shaving things away in his bag. Fiona had collected everything when she’d checked him out of the Holiday Inn. He tried to tidy the cube, straightening chairs around the table, spreading the sleeping bag on the foam in case Fiona felt like another nap, but it didn’t seem to help. The cube wasn’t very large, and now there were too many things in it. The weird-looking rectangular helicopter-drone on the table, his Air, the cartons and elaborate packing she’d removed the various segments of the drone from, his bag, her armored jacket and his tweed from Tanky & Tojo on the backs of chairs. The way this kind of space suddenly looked so much less special if you had to live in it, even for a few hours.