They returned to the surface bubble and took off their pressure suits.
"Nearly dinner time," Elaine said, as they descended to the living area. "How about eating in my quarters?" she asked.
"Can you cook?"
"You'll find out."
A few hours later, he had decided that she definitely could cook, and that she had somehow managed to bring to Titan some of the best wine he had tasted in years.
Now the table was folded back into the wall, and they were sitting together on the couch, listening to music tapes.
"What's that?" he asked.
"Villa-Lobos, a Twentieth Century composer. Bachianas Brazilieris. Number eight, I think...."
They listened in silence for a few moments to the moody, restless music.