I took him out of there and down to the other end of the landing to a large enclosure full of tables and chairs with a sink and a couple of microwave ovens, which served as a cafeteria for warehouse personnel. The regular crew had all gone home for the day, and a verminous gang of skin-painted street urchins were heating some yellowish glop in large plastic bowls. I introduced Troog and a half-dozen of his pals. Troog has this strange idea that he owns me because we've slept together a few times, and I could see that he didn’t like Turtle from the moment they met.