"Hmm." It makes sense, most adults would see a teenager drinking, and if they object, they'd say something. Nothing worse than the idea of Norah's mom finding them drinking. It was something, but not the same. "I guess it'll do."

Abby slips behind the partition, handing over her top is fast enough, she lingers on the pants a few beats longer than strictly needed, before handing those over as well. Taking in the news that going home isn't anything this side knows. Which makes sense, why come back here if you go home? She had to ask, she just was kicking herself for hoping that there was a good answer.

She should have known better.

"So focus on the fun I can have in a military police state that doesn't have access to lattes?" The resignation in her voice is palpable. Abby doesn't want this, she doesn't want any of this shit. Worse, though, is she doesn't want to accept this. But that's just been her life, having to accept things. "All this shit would be easier if they didn't start me off staying in a fucking barracks."

When all else fails, teenage pouting is the answer.