"Easy, big fella," Saturday murmurs, projecting calm in the rabbit humanoid's direction while watching somewhat nervously at the corners. "This place ain't in great shape, maybe it really is the best they can do."

She doesn't believe it one bit, but she's also willing to put money down that this is another eat-shit test, like the smiley entry door in the mess. The tension in the rabbit guy is like a steel cord ready to snap, and she doesn't want it snapping with absolutely every other pissed off "worker" in the rig in the same room.