Sherry isn't far away from Wednesday. Her expression fits strangely on her young face. She was raised Atheist; her parents were scientists, and had remarked again and again that there was no God. There was only Science and Progress, and to put one's faith in an angry Sky Daddy was foolishness meant for the plebeian masses, not for the elite.

Her parents had really liked that word, elite. Sherry shrugged to herself and stood up, pausing beside the old man. She doesn't get the sermon, doesn't want to: Stacy took her away from something bad and gave the little girl something better. Parents that cared for her, in place of ones that were neglectful and too preoccupied to do anything but remark on her existence once in a while. She is not adrift, not lost, and while the ship and her passengers were formerly confusing, they fit better now. It's becoming normal, and it wasn't some intangible being's doing.

Sherry looked around for Eve; it feels weird not having a shadow constantly following her around. "Excuse me," she says politely.