"If you'd like," Fahir replied with a nonchalant wave. "I'll be in my cabin," he added, sweeping up the bottle of ouzo from the table. This was a more familiar Fahir. Drinking silently in his own cabin and turning up late to the ops deck to start his next shift. He had a suspicion that if he drank too much he was going to do something remarkably stupid. Even in the unlikely event that she didn't just tell him to fuck off, turning up at Iris' cabin with a half empty bottle was going to end up going badly.