[indent][indent][color=934641][h3]Ｅ ｉ ｍ ｉ  Ｎ ｏ ｘ[/h3][/color][/indent][/indent]
The lack of muscles flexing and trembling underneath Eimi’s thin body caused her to stop slamming her gun into the man’s thick skull.  Her eyes narrowed and scanned the face, unconscious and beaten as small pants of lustful anger quivered from her thin lips.   She had cracked part of his beefy face, and if he did not look inbred before Eimi got ahold of him, he sure did, now. A small smirk breathed from her, while she admired her work, the deformity of his damaged cartilage and swollen nostrils, clogged and battered with his own fluids.

Satisfied with the results, Eimi straightened herself — letting herself cool down —  adjusted her blazer, and carefully removed herself from the situation with one foot politely placed to the right while the other foot was ballet’d gracefully in toe-step.  Her body made a satirical, half-assed twirl as her balance was repositioned into a small saunter.  She made a small glance over her shoulder towards Jeremiah, as he made some commentary.  Apparently, Lynnette had made her own breach, entrance, and announcement.  A roll of the eyes brushed past the scene and she faced forward, again, [color=934641]“To the ship,”[/color] she grimaced back at them.

[i]Jeremiah’s lucky he has crew-mates,[/i] Eimi silently reprimanded, as she tucked the gun neatly into its holster. Secretly, she was unsure if beating some prepubescent boy on some children’s video game would have been more satisfying than violently smashing a grown man’s skull bloody.  She’d forgive Jeremiah, this one time.  He [i]did[/i] seem a little out of it, today. Everyone did, but some things were more noticeable than others, like Lynnette’s seemingly plastic pale cleavage — it glowed in the fucking dark, like a night light.  Other foibles of her crew-mates passed through her head as she headed back to the ship.

She was half-dreading it and half-relieved to get off this Godforsaken planet.  There had been a small adrenaline rush of excitement to visit Mars, again.  However, Eimi could not quite pinpoint the exact reason why, and if anything, she was annoyed with herself for having any recollection of the place. Granted, the only familiar faces she saw were those of [i]The Absolute Magnitude.[/i]

With a small pause in her walk, Eimi swung her backpack around to her breast and shifted her Samsung-Galaxy ionPlayer 2 (S-GiP 2). It was an old Samsung device, but Eimi rigged it alright.  She could potentially have gotten a new one, but Wes had given her this one.  As much as she loved new technology, she had sentimental value for the old stuff, like Poole.  He was alright.  They all were (even Jeremiah), but she wasn’t about to make that known.  Her finger pulled the earphones from the clunker, and placed them over her ears.  If walking around with  a frown like Xaara didn’t make her look like someone who didn’t want conversation with Jeremiah or Lynnette or anyone else, then the earphones sure would.

[color=934641][center]★   ★   ★[/center][/color]

Semi-successfully making it through the ship and to her room with no comradery with her crew-mates, Eimi unlocked the door to her room.  It was dark, but the light from the hallway lurked bright enough for Eimi to navigate her way through the already memorized ‘maze.’  It was not really a maze, though.  She probably could have walked straight to her bed with her eyes closed.  A neatly organized bookshelf with gizmos, gadgets, and yes, some books were pushed together for some techno-baroque aesthetic lined the right wall, and her single bed, neatly made, was to the left. Completing Eimi’s necessities was a desk, (seemingly) trashed with electronics but definitely not without her most-used computer and a vacant seat next to it, where she could place her laptop.  It was eclectically quaint if not solemnly stale.  Whatever it was, it was enough for Eimi.

Creeping her fingers along the front wall, Eimi flicked on the light.  In a hopping motion, her backpack was displaced onto the cold floor, and her hand quickly made its way into her pocket to pull out the newly obtained wallet.  Without taking off her boots, Eimi landed stomach first onto the bedding.  Her fingers flipped open the wallet and crawled inside to see what she had found, all the while, the music in her S-GiP played a heavily hyper-warped [i]biwa[/i] ordained tune.  It was chill. But, not chill enough.

Eimi’s face fell flat as she stared at the ‘plethora’ of fake IDs of Jeremiah Strong.  A hesitant thought passed through her, and then she carefully closed the piece of trash, contemplation of pocketing the money dripped from her movements.  She rolled over onto her back and studied the worn creases and bruises on the material.  The wallet fell from her hands and landed on her abdomen before losing balance and falling next to her on the dark bedding.  She closed her eyes and let out an exasperated sigh.  [i]This song sucks.[/i]