The ship's been cleaned. Insanely. Every bit of it's shining brightly, even whiter than it normally is, and all is pristine and perfect for a trip that guarantees, considering time and the personages involved, that by the time they land, it'll be a mess
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He hates goodbyes. Even when they're temporary.
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Trillian does try.
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He gives her a valiant attempt at a smile.
"I'll be alright once we get going."
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She laughs, tugging on his arm.
"No, I've got an old-fashioned hotplate in the kitchen. Zaphod nearly ate me."
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Trillian hands him a cup of tea.
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Pause.
"Does Ford know?"
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Oh, for Zarquon's sake, Ford, just tell her already.
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"... this doesn't have anything to do with the time Ford kissed me, right?"
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"When he what?"
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He shakes his head and goes straight for the last refuge of the Socially Confused Englishman.
"Any more tea?"
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She passes him another cup.
"You look really, really confused."
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Another pause.
"Anyone else I should know about?"
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Trillian thinks.
Really, really hard.
"... actually, no."
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