[Constantine is here, picking listlessly at a kebab. A slightly smoldering cigarette has been stubbed out in a nearby glass. He glances up when Flayn speaks, and...oh.]

Uh, a pub of some sort. Photo lab. A water park on the top deck and various other amusements.

[He falls silent for a moment, studying her carefully. The ship is much more quiet, now that their numbers are dwindling to the single digits.]

How are you feeling, Flayn?

[He feels he already knows the answer, but....]