Pascal shrugged as the other men quickly folded as the ship prepared for departure. Perhaps poker had been an ill-founded idea. All of his ideas were terrible. As last man standing, Pascal supposed that he had technically won the game, not that anyone was keeping score or anything. He quickly cleared the table, absently shuffling the cards back into a cohesive deck, which he slipped into his pocket. A tidy man, he refolded the chairs and placed them back on their rack along the wall, making sure to carefully stack them so they would not fall over in flight. After all, that was just courteous. 

With nothing left to do and no further reason to be in the hold, Pascal grabbed up his old duffel and the hard rifle case, climbed the ladder to tiptoe into the men's quarters. Again, trying to be courteous. Some people preferred to sleep through takeoff, it eased the sudden transition from terrestrial life to the vast inky emptiness that was space. Scott, however, didn't seem to care if anyone was trying to sleep, loudly announcing his presence and tossing his gear around as he slammed the door on the way out. Pascal pressed himself to the bulkhead to let the man pass through the corridor, then peeked inside. Sure enough, Erik lay curled up on one of the bunks.

Pascal sighed, quietly shut the door. Still carrying his bags, he walked lightly after Scott. [i]"Mon ami,"[/i] he said quietly after Scott. "Do not forget, you're sharing space with others. There's a man trying to sleep in there, but I doubt he's going to get much rest after your performance." He smiled in an effort to remove some of the offense from his words. No sense making an enemy out of Scott, but the man could use a friendly reminder.