...Gods. Gaeta isn't entirely sure what he expected, but it wasn't for Mulcahy to look this bad.

(The fight quiets down at last. I was right, he tells himself firmly, to think something was wrong.)

"Morning, Father," he says. "No, I, ah, just wanted to stop by. See how you were doing." A small, crooked smile, and he rummages in his satchel to extract one of the coffee flasks -- still warm and still holding all its contents unspilled, thankfully. As he holds it out like he were presenting a written sitrep to the Admiral: "I'm glad I did. You look like you could use this."