[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=008080]William Harper[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/61/d5/0f/61d50ff13cbf1b934346f627b65adf0c.jpg[/img][hr][b][color=teal]Location:[/color][/b] Galley -> en route to Quarters[hr][/center]

	The Alliance pilot presently known as Harper was almost fully able to suppress a wry expression at the scene unfolding before him. An offer of fruit preserves from Persephone and a request for conversation was met by a fully inebriated Dandy who ran out of the Galley, presumably to find a more suitable place to vomit, a perpetually cross Captain who (by the looks of things) was subtly threatening his life, and a particularly presumptuous Doctor who took his offer of something sweet as an invitation to feed half of the crew. Truth be told, just about every Browncoat on board had disappointed him in one way or another. The Alliance personnel weren't any better, in their own ways, but it was at least expected of them. It could be that his overall mood was coloring the events playing out before him, but he honestly expected his egress from the military to be a hair more idealistic than what was happening. 

	[color=008080]"We're in a Galley, packed to redundancy with decent food."[/color] he noted aloud, irritation notable. [color=008080]"Not nutrient rations, not compressed soy and yeast. Actual food. Yet my private stores get the attention."[/color] Harper shook his head and began putting the lids back onto what remained of his precious, sugary fruits. [color=008080]"The [i]Captain[/i] is correct. This is a good time to call it a day. If you require my services specifically, I'll be in my quarters."[/color] Harper had dropped the pretense of military protocol verbally, yet retained his starched posture. He strode to a cabinet and procured for himself a Standardized Meal Pack, reminiscent of the old MREs of Earth-That-Was, and made for the door. He might have gone for something a bit more luxurious for his supper, but this required the least amount of preparation while still seeing to his nutritional needs. And still beat the hell out of prison food. 

	About halfway to the exit Harper stopped, returned to the scene of the appropriation of his foodstuffs, and snatched up the remainder of the water crackers. [color=008080]"Ma'am."[/color] he said flatly, [color=008080]"Your people have not left a great impression so far. But tomorrow's another day, right?"[/color] before returning to his path of egress. Yeah, tomorrow was another day. But tonight, Harper took some solace in the fact that he would be sleeping with a loaded firearm, if he could sleep at all. 

	Considering everything, maybe these people just took some getting used to. Or maybe he would take up Anisa's offer to be dropped at the next port along with whomever else didn't pass muster. He might even be able to return to the Alliance with a mostly true story of getting hijacked by Browncoats, and continue his overall plan that way. But there was a Plan C forming in the back of Harper's brain. Yes, there was always another option, if one dared to take it. The tiniest smile curled up one corner of his mouth as he walked the corridor back to his room.