[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] Common Area[hr][/center]
The last few days were rather interesting for old Lionel. Interesting as in filled with pain and covered with a thick layer of curses from English, Mandarin and whatever other tidbits of language he had picked up over the last few decades. Having to help fix the hull of a ship while his back was thrown out was not what the business tycoon had envisioned when he first signed up to stay aboard the Vengeance, but thems the breaks. By now he'd more or less recovered, and was in much better spirits compared to yesterday or the day before.

Currently, Lionel was hanging around in the Common Area, taking a break from all the various errands people were having him run when they were too busy doing something important and specialized. He resented being reduced to an errand boy, but given the circumstances of "The Alliance are coming to fuck our assholes raw," he remained rather silent about his indignation. He leaned back in a chair, chewing on the end of a toothpick. The sound of Captain Crowe yelling filtered down from above, but unless such verbal assaults were aimed directly at him, his brain filtered most of its contents out.

[center][h1][color=17A589]Carla Lobo[/color][/h1][/center]
[hr][center][color=17A589][b]Location:[/b][/color] Her Quarters[/center][hr]
Carla spent the last few days the same way she did almost every trip through the Black: sticking to her own business and being as invisible as possible to the rest of the crew, skeletal as they were. When she was called to guard Jahosafat and his experiments, she dutifully stood guard and vigilantly watched nothing happen outside in the halls. Time not spent guarding was time spent in her room, performing painstakingly thorough maintenance of all her weapons and equipment, performing drills to keep her skills sharp and doing the variety of exercises she had learned work in the limited space of an Alliance ship bedroom.

Finally the day of touchdown had arrived, and Carla was fairly excited to be somewhere with some not recycled air, and if this was part of the big mission Jahosafat came here for, she'd probably get to go out and actually use her skills, a thought that made her blush faintly. Unlike Jahosafat, she didn't walk out dressed in extravagant clothes, just her usual Agency uniform, ironed of all wrinkles, washed to smell of daffodils and looking like it just came off the press.