[u][b]Last Night[/b][/u]

The night had been silent and calm as the Dusicyon flew through the sky in all her majesty. None could really argue just how beautiful the ship was, especially not to Cyrek Krusek. Cyrek knew the ship's every crack, as he worked hard to keep her in good repair. Tonight was another one of those sleepless nights where he had his work cut out for him. He had every reason to sleep in tomorrow, but there was to be some big dinner going down, courtesy of the captain.

The ship didn't glow against the light of the moon, as she was bluntly colored enough to not be noticeable to the eyes of her prey. One thing was visible that night, and that was a small light coming from the arc of Cyrek Krusek's welding torch. He stared unflinchingly at the hot metal, through shaded lenses. Sparks would sally forth every now and then, attacking his leather jacket he prized so much.

He was held up by a strong leather tether and a harness. He seemed to be able to free float, but he was locked in place to his work with different methods. He was also locked to his work with his attention. He was dedicated to welding. It was an art form to him. He controlled the hot metal, directing its flow into the crevices, strengthening them and making the ship stronger as a whole. 

This night of sleeplessness would not be to his liking. He always found it more to his liking to burn an arc during the dark hours. It was easier to concentrate on the difficult task when all the light you had was the arc.

[b][u]The Present[/u][/b]

Cyrek awoke late, having burned up the entire night of any sleep he could get, leaving it all for the day. He looked to his old clock, seeing the alarm had gone off a long time ago and had gone silent a long time ago. He jumped out of bed, still wearing the same clothes he had worn last night. He splashed water on his face and went running around his shared quarters, back and forth. He didn't bother wearing his leather jacket, as he headed out with only his tank top t-shirt to cover his upper torso and his work pants. He seemed to be wearing all of his work clothes except for his jacket.

He made his way towards the cafeteria. "Ahhh fuckin' hell, man. This is fucking bullshit." He ran through the hallways, busting through the doors only to notice he had missed even the captain's speech. "Fuck." He ran his hand through his hair and headed towards the line, walking very pronounced and determined.

He stepped into line right behind the aloof Travis Ice. The man seemed to have come in at a similar time to him, probably not for the exact same reasons as Cyrek. Cyrek had been hard at work on the repairs which kept popping up. "So you too, huh?" He said, lackadaisically. He took up a tray and started collecting food on it.