Catra wrinkles her nose. She's already finished her own sandwich and is moving in on the pickle, which tastes amazing: salty, sour and fresh. She takes another bite as Saturday's pickle is waved towards her and she lets out a small 'huff' of reproach.

"Okay, okay. I get it." She takes another bite. "I'm just not used to the "we're all in this together" thing. It was... a lot more cutthroat back home." And she'd played that game, too. And won. Even if in the end, she had really lost.