Syral passed through the airlock relatively quickly, humming a tune he only half-remembered, wearing his N7 leather jacket, 'military casual' look that he'd sort of naturally slipped into as his life had passed by. She was an impressive boat; larger than the previous Normandy, which was larger than the original. He breathed in, idly thinking about how he hadn't breathed fresh air in roughly two weeks, his schedule having him hop from one space installation to the next without much R&R time in-between.

He found his modest quarters, situated on the the second floor down, a large glass panel the only thing separating him from the ominously huge engine core. [i]Oh, I see, Krios liked this sorta place, so obviously it's my cup of tea too[/i] He'd been studying the history and layout of the previous Normandies in his off-hours; where the crew resided, where the useful rooms were, even the inter-crew dynamics in a disturbing amount of detail. He wondered if his social life would become a facet of history. He unpacked his clothes into his locker and started playing some 21st Century Earth music he'd found on the extranet a few years ago; he'd become quite a snob for pre-contact Earth culture, it was entertainingly small-picture, something which relaxed him.

After stashing an emergency pistol in a shoe-box in his locker, he decided it was time to go make history and have an idle conversation. It was this moment he realised he hadn't touched alcohol for what seemed like a year, Galen having reminded him that alcohol could actually play a part on his life to some degree. He walked from his quarters, ignoring the map and trying to get as lost as possible. He eventually managed to find the bar after forty-five minutes of wandering and a ten minute conversation with the ship's cook, who seemed amiable. He at one point mentioned cooking a big Dextro-Amino suitable meal for him that evening, and in the interest of not dying of internal combustion Syral politely mentioned that Drell were Levo-Amino based lifeforms. The cook looked embarrassed and promised to read over the personnel files again.

Syral walked to the bar, waiting for a bartender before he realised it was a free-to-take situation. He identified the colour of bottle usually reserved for Levo-Amino alcohol and poured himself a large drink, knocking it back in one swig. He turned and noticed one of his crewmates sat on a fairly luxurious looking sofa. [i]History books, here I come..[/i] Syral thought to himself, wandering over in her direction.
"Naomi, isn't it? I've been looking over the files" He said casually, sitting on the arm of the sofa furthest from her, appreciating approaching a female in a bar in any culture seemed like a come-on. He tried to maintain an air of professionalism, not wanting to make her feel uncomfortable. He looked wistfully in front of him, rubbing the back of his neck. "Spectre Naomi, I am Spectre Syral Kiera. As a Spectre it's nice to meet another Spectre on this Spectre ship on this Spectre operation" He turned, smiling wryly, "Sorry, can you tell I'm excited?"