The hangar empties in nine minutes flat. Voss is the last one out, and he does it without hurry, because a man who runs draws eyes.
You are still standing on the tarmac with your gear at your feet when he stops beside you.
"Stores are on the north side. You'll want the second door, not the first."
He does not look at you while he says it. The mask is plain black, no markings, and it gives you nothing to read.
"Nobody tells the new one that,"
you say.
"No."
He turns his head just enough.
"I'm not being kind. I'm being efficient. Ask me a real question."