[ 'Interesting.' The woman, Rey has concluded, must be some sort of lunatic to be so free with a threat to her life. Thrill-seeking, more than that. It hardly inspires comfort. ]

If you want to blow yourself up with a bomb, be my guest. But the rest of us want to stay in one piece.

[ She doesn't bother correcting that the bombs are most surely not intended to be used here and now, on the Queen's own — whatever they are. Army, if Rey had to guess, from how they've been treated. That, too, hardly inspires comfort; the wariness has left her on edge, bristling, but her retort takes on a more dry tone to combat Maeve's light-heartedness. ]

I know what I'm doing. [ It isn't the first time she has set about with traps, with explosives, learning to fasten them out of what she'd had. That, she doesn't share, closed off and unused to social etiquette. ] It wasn't difficult to see you weren't paying any attention to the actual schematics.

[ And part of her had sensed it, more significant, bubbling and brewing — stronger, now that her abilities have increased, more out of her hands than they've ever been in their development. Rather than share it, she gives Maeve a look, and turns back to the tools at her own station. ]