[ In the pause before she speaks, Jack imagines her lips pinched tight, her brow furrowed, withering and exhausted, and a silly grin passes over his face. Then she makes what is in all respects a very good point, and his expression shifts to something more ponderous. He stalks closer, coming to a stop with a hand tucked jauntily against his hip. ]

Something about internal combustion was mentioned. The fellow who explained it seemed not to want to waste time giving me the details, but I'm loathe to lose the both of us in some sort of explosion out of sheer rashness.

[ He leans close, peering over her shoulder into the – cabin? Whatever it is. Lots of knobs and switches, all very foreign to him. ]

He said something about turning a key. Have you got one of those?