The Exo's hand is on his wrist before he can touch the bike, unyielding despite intending to be gentle. Palmer's probably noticed the heat already, but her instincts won't take the chance of him burning himself.

"Careful," she warns, letting go. The inner side of her gauntlet is a little hot too, but the flexible mesh that lines is softer and less burning than plate metal. "I left it pretty hot." She appreciates the sympathy, though. Poor Sparrow. It served her well. "If I figured there was much left I'd open it up and show you."

Losing a bike is small in the greater scheme, of course. Listening to him reminisce reminds her of that. "Just a few of you out there? Antarctica have been pretty isolated even in those days. The worst part about work like that is usually the boredom. And the confinement, for you. You don't make it sound bad, though."