Sasha isn't looking at Ione, not directly. She's not watching Reshad's cautious advance toward the nest, either. Instead, she's balancing Chahle and a spoonful of smushed banana, and hoping desperately that the warmth in her face looks like some sort of reaction to the steaming tea.

She isn't touching the teacups, either, but the one that judders off the shelf and smashes on the galley floor is definitely her fault.