"Pixies?" It wasn't so much a request for the meaning of the word, but more a questioning of how serious he was. Zoe knew before he could say more that the little things that she'd only heard of when she was little - though gremlins, not the green puppet things either, and the like were probably more frequent in the stories - that the little things were certainly real, she let the question go. He knew she knew; she had just gotten to know him on a rather intimate level after all.
"No, yes. Hump it. The worse that could happen is that they shoot themselves - that's if they could put it together again." The warrior woman had been smart enough to remove a piece or two before handing it over for "safe keeping." "A beer, a sake, something to eat."
She was getting lazy; she knew she was. She'd have to find somewhere to work, and soon, or she'd turn into one of those goodfornothings. Not that a goodfornothing was necessarily a bad thing, but Zoe never imagined herself as one. She was more of the useful goodforsomething type.
"Here." Harry wasn't getting a choice. The Chinese place appeared out of the blue, which oddly didn't comfort the ex-first mate much; she was getting that "this is a set up" feeling.