Hera grins and busies her hands making something simple: just ice and gin and the littlest dash of bitters. The mix tinges pink and she shrugs, handing Crysta her glass and reaching out her own for a soft tink.

"Hell if I know," Hera admits. "I'm too new to guess. But you can tell it's bugging some of the veterans." Weird vibes.

She tilts her head. "What do you think?"