“Was throwing you a bone, my dude,” Gideon says. She pulls one of the bones a furry friend brought her out of her pocket and mimes flicking it at him. They’re animal bone, not human. People don’t recycle here like they do in the Ninth. She wonders about the other houses. Given the ships are covered in layers of bones, however, Gideon doubts it is much different.

“Griddle wasn’t random. It’s what the person I’ve pushed and pulled and tackled and scratched and kicked and punched and been through every hell with calls me. I doubt anyone else would have understood everything I saw in the mirror,” she explains, “Besides me. I’m the coolest person you’ve ever met, I know. I’m made of hundreds of bones, and you’ve barely seen my longest fingers.” She holds these up with a wink and a grin.

“You’ve already made at least two friends here, so don’t tell me no one else has gotten past your guard.”