[center][h1][color=D09A57]Jackson Tanner[/color][/h1]
[img]https://67.media.tumblr.com/a473b16987b7f5335b41339658cbaf59/tumblr_o80lxs9RrX1spwd06o1_500.gif[/img][/center]
[hr][center][color=D09A57][b]Location:[/b][/color] Anisa's Bunk[/center][hr]

Jackson had sat in silence for a while, for the first time in a long while not having a clear and certain idea of exactly where he should be going and what he should be doing, Anisa had really caught him off guard, and it was taking him some time to get him back on his feet even mentally. However, the yelling had certainly managed to get Jackson's attention, and as it became clear to him just what it was related to, he was on his feet in an instant. Climbing up the ladder, he made a quick stop over at his own bunk. Moving over to his bed, he reached over to the rack behind it and grabbed his shotgun, climbing back up the ladder with it gripped in one hand.

It wasn't often he was brandishing a weapon around the ship, usually it meant they were in dire straits, were about to be, or that Jackson was not in the mood to be fucked around with, on the odd occasion, it meant all three. Stepping down the hall into the kitchen, he rested the shotgun over his shoulder, looking over those present, mostly eyeing Camilla before his gaze turned to Anisa. He opened his mouth for a moment as he looked at Camilla, almost as if he was about to accuse her of something before he recalled Anisa's words, faltering before he just watched her. [color=D09A57][b]"What's the deal?"[/b][/color]

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[center][h1][color=FF2F2F]Gregory Quinn[/color][/h1]
[img]https://67.media.tumblr.com/5c4bdc16083899ae152b4c5082d641e8/tumblr_neapbd9y3f1rb5kh3o4_500.gif[/img][/center]
[hr][center][color=FF2F2F][b]Location:[/b][/color] Captain's Office -> Bridge[/center][hr]

The silence enveloped Quinn for a while, the feeling and thought of what he had done being wrong, he had given his targets, the people he had been assigned to capture, specific information that they were coming. By all accounts, he was treasonous, in rebellion, during the first war, he would have shot a man for less. Yet, for at least the time being, he was the only one who knew the weight of his actions, and so for now he alone would consider them. Sighing, he eventually moved to stand, needing air free of the confines of his office as he move toward the door, heading out.

Wandering down the hall, he made his way toward the bridge, hands clasped behind his back as he sighed and approached the display window, peering out as he glanced over at one of the ensigns still on the bridge. [color=FF2F2F][b]"How far out are we?"[/b][/color] He asked calmly, in the sort of cool manner that usually meant he was about to execute a prisoner.