Saturday thrust her hands in her jumpsuit pockets, feeling very keenly the loss of her overcoat. It just makes for a better prop.

"Hope you don't mind the rain."

She leads him out to the deck of the rig, and across to a grate that looks down on a tangled web of piping. The grate pops out of its shell with a well placed slam on the heel of her hand, and she drops down. Despite appearances, there is just enough room for a single person of average size to pass. She lands on some grating what looks to be about twenty feet down, waves, then crouches and moves to one side.