"Sure thing, Captain!" Hannah chirped pleasantly as the white-haired woman berated the crew. She took the Captain's tough love in stride; she'd been taking it in stride for years, after all. She was pretty sure it wasn't actual anger. ...pretty sure. 

The pint-sized space pirate didn't try to jump in on the ship part wrangling—she was no engineer. Instead, she continued on her path into the ship, whistling cheerfully as she walked up the cargo ramp, arms wrapped around a wooden crate almost as big as her torso. Anyone peeking between the slats would see smaller metal boxes marked 'munitions' and 'warning: explosives' with faded block letters. It almost didn't seem possible, looking at the round, sweet face of the person carrying it, but there must be at least fifty sticks of dynamite in there. 

Her favorite kind of cargo—especially if she got to surprise the captain with it later. Hannah kept up the jaunty tune as she proceeded into the ship, planning on taking her load straight to her bunk. These kind of incendiaries would be safe away from prying eyes...and she could attend to them privately later. Not that she was weird about explosives, or anything, she just...gave them special attention. She waved to the preacher as she passed through the bridge, smiling slightly to herself. Soon, they'd be getting off this dustball planet, and back up in the black.