She glanced over her shoulder and frowned. “Is there … Do they need help with gear?” Eugene and Myrtle were stepping back into the BusyBee. He had his hand on the hatch and was pulling it shut. I caught Mavis’s arm and steered her toward the donning room. “No.” Smiling around a jealous ache, I walked away from them. “They need to do a private debrief.” A moment of confusion crossed her face, then a grin appeared like the sun popping over the horizon of the Moon. Mavis winked. “Got it.” The BusyBees had many wonderful qualities. One of which was that they were soundproof.
