Gaeta gulps down one last mouthful of water. It sloshes a bit uncomfortably in his stomach, and for a terrified moment he wonders if Anders is right, and he's about to make himself ill.

(Ill from a bottle of water. Gods. As if he didn't feel helpless enough already.)

"Picon," he says. Blink and you'll miss it, but a flicker of sympathy lights his eyes at the mention of homesickness. "Grew up in River Junction, maybe twenty minutes outside Fleet HQ."