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"Veronica was sure there was more to this but didn't press the issue. "I see, Sir Bartholomew I think I need to consider this further."Sir Bartholomew nodded gravely. "Certainly Veronica, feel free to look around and talk to anyone you want to." Veronica smiled faintly to him and then got to her feet.After the door closed behind her Sir Bartholomew turned to Wilson, "I hope we haven't lost her." He said softly.Wilson looked at him. "No sir, she'll stay with us. She has that look about her." He said.Sir Bartholomew settled back in his chair. "I hope so, I dread to think what would happen if we lost her and her daughter."Veronica was lost, not only in geography — it was a very big house, but also in her thoughts.Here she was in a house owned by a person who had virtually told her that he was responsible for her husband's death. But he wasn't a bad man, was he? Then there was the fact that she seemed to calmly accept meeting a man who died... but he said he hadn't... during the 12th. "I went with her to look for survivors, because we lost contact with the CP. She was just as cool as could be, but the thing is I know she was just as scared as I was. She just didn't let it show. She risked her life to save some kid she didn't even know. Rappelled down to get him and if she'd slipped there were thousands of them waiting for her. She'll come for us."She felt safe in his arms. "So ... what should we do while we wait?" She looked up at him expectantly. He seemed about to reply when her stomach rumbled."I think we better eat, and then we'll see." He pulled out two MREs read the labels and put one back in his pack. "Last heater, this is the nastiest cold." When he opened it, the smell of eggs was wonderful. Like the night before, he held it open so she could eat, but this time she stopped after half. He didn't refuse, but opened a tiny bottle of Tabasco, dumped it in the packet and ate the rest. They split some kind of cherry cake, and a hard chewy brownie. He.
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