[The sharp tone of the young military officer-- for she had to be one, or Pidge had spent months undercover at the military academy for nothing if she hadn't learned to identify a soldier on sight-- was enough to get Pidge to instinctively straighten her stance despite her scuffed boots and dirtied shorts even while she was trying to figure out how to approach this conundrum.

There had to be a rational explanation here. Emotions simply couldn't work that freely, could they?

But the bushel of corn seemed to wilt under the stress of such a commanding tone, and Pidge let out a sigh that seemed to release her own prickly tension at those orders.]

Uh...I dunno where you come from, [Pidge began, relaxing her shoulders enough to fiddle with her glasses as she turned to regard the young woman, surprise still coloring her dark eyes.] But these are vegetables, not soldiers. Maybe we should....show them that we're grateful that they're here?

[She knew she was-- a steaming ear of roasted corn on the cob, rolled around in butter and sprinkled with salt and pepper, sounded heavenly after months of eating little more than alien foods and weird green food goo. Her own anticipation for such a simple feast seemed to waft through like the smoke from a pinewood fire.

Clearly, this girl had grown familiar with roughing it.]