The civil war is neither there nor is it here. Sabine has a penchant for being able to ferret out both gorgeous classics and the worst tripe of trope fiction when she goes looking: another of those things Jack picked up from prolonged exposure to her need to devour whatever she could get her hands on from such a 'young' age.

(The Civil War is between a far-flung race of super soldier ants and praying mantis aliens, all of them the size of transformers, fighting over a jungle planet they very much seemed more bent on destroying by causality with their opponents rather than preserving as they claimed their honor and glory of going to war was for. The narration knows in your bones you absolutely, desperately wanted to know for posterity's sake.)

"Wow. What a rousing reason to want to talk to you," Sabine said, glancing over the top of her book, but only just. A raise of her eyebrows scoffing at the fact the derision about Jack exuded beyond the words chosen and easily implied so much worse. "Give me a moment to let my heart stop fluttering."