Moira looked at her. Tekla’s gaze, which some found chilly, was fixed on Moira’s face. Moira didn’t find it chilly at all. Tekla, for once, glanced away shyly. "Venezuela," she added. "Navy is no longer a problem. Rockets are launched again." She shrugged. She was wearing a tank top. Moira couldn’t stop looking at her deltoids. She had to stop doing that. "On the beach it was fuel-air bombs," Tekla continued. "Extrimmly destructive." Tekla leaned back in her chair and draped an arm casually over the back of the empty chair next to her. "What is your opinion, Dr. Crewe?"