[center][h1][color=17A589]Carla Lobo[/color][/h1][/center]
[hr][center][color=17A589][b]Location:[/b][/color] Med Bay[/center][hr]
Carla turned around and parked her butt in the seat previously occupied by the pilot of the ship. He'd barely been there for more than a few minutes, but even then, she couldn't help but feel a bit of residual body heat in the chair. It was kind of disgusting. Like putting on a sock somebody else was just wearing. Yes, nothing bad would come of it, but that didn't change the fact that it still felt gross and maybe slightly damp. Now properly situated, Carla rolled up the sleeve on her left arm, exposing the old burn scar that spanned across the length of her forearm.

[center][hr][hr][IMG]http://fontmeme.com/embed.php?text=Lionel%20Wickett&name=AKENATEN.ttf&size=65&style_color=9C6F6F[/IMG]
[hr][b]Location:[/b] The Kitchen[hr][/center]
Lionel, or more specifically, his arms were covered up to the elbow in a combination of salt, pepper, horse blood and probably a bit of human blood as well. Seasoning meat shouldn't be a difficult task, and yet nothing seemed to be going right. Oh those steaks got covered in salt all right, but in the process, he might have accidentally spilled half of the container, if not more. In between expletives, Lionel's mind had long since progressed from setting aside personal funds for real food to hiring a full-time chef for the vessel so he wouldn't have to fuck up in the kitchen anymore.

[color=9C6F6F]"Huh, did you go somewhere?" Lionel asked Gene, eyes focused on properly prepping the meat for cooking by pounding it vigorously. He had remembered a bit late that untenderized meat was tougher than his ex-wife's heart. So the first steak would probably be the worst of the bunch, thus handed off to Gideon. Hopefully the rest would turn out pretty good and shared among the rest of the crew.