"Is th-that a bomb?" Charlotte's stuttering murmur carried in the high-ceilinged room of the weapons hull. "Ah, I'm going to kill Nik." Lincoln grumbled, wiping his soot-covered hands on his stained work trousers. Charlotte had never seen him look so... unkempt. "Ink, you said you were a chemist." She said hesitantly. "A chemist, an engineer, a brilliant chef, the love of Fatima's life..." The dark-skinned man shot her a devilish grin.