"Label and date 'em," Cricket's answer is prompt, though he's just passing by, towing a wagon with a couple crates in it. "Always wanna know the date you made somethin', even if it's pressure-canned. Everything's got a shelf life. Even moonshine."

He drops the wagon handle and wanders a few steps closer, and Mantis may note the metal braces on his legs, under the trousers. They give him a stiff, slow gait, but he doesn't seem to be in pain or unsteady. Just cautious. "I did a hell of a lot of canning last summer. Ain't got started yet this year. Mostly I did vegetables, though, and pickles, and eggs. Most of the fruit I get goes into making liquor."

It's kind of neat to see someone else at it, though. He approves!