The smell of food at once made her queasy even as it awoke her intense hunger. And though she ached to simply make her report to Captain Lasseter and be done with it, she could not brush away his polite and unspoken imploring for just a bit more time before giving him news he did not wish to hear. Also, not understanding the politics in the room and whether or not they had any understanding of Preston's condition, she prudently kept silent. Empathy and sympathy both tempered her response. "Of course, Captain", she said, approaching the proffered chair. "Thank you", she added, and sat, even as Captain Lasseter pushed in her chair. Maeve ate slowly and uncertainly, not sure if her stomach would betray her, giving it time to settle, even as part of her wished to scarf her meal in a most unladylike fashion. She listened politely and intently to the conversation as it picked up around the table of strangers, saying little.