“NO!” Lyn yelled as she jerked away. Her gaze shot to the left and right, body tense and ready for action, before she remembered where she was. She took a few shuddering breaths, feeling the tension slowly seep out of her body. She realized that she must have taken a nap at her desk at some point after having spoken to Eimi; only an hour had passed since she had spoken to the younger woman. 

She shuddered again as she remembered parts of her dream. She could still feel the warmth of blood on her hands. She was still haunted by that day. Why wouldn’t she?

Taking a deep breath, Lyn placed her revolver and gun cleaning supplies on the desk before her. Her revolver didn’t need to be cleaned, she had done so yesterday and hadn’t fired it since, but doing so had become something of a relaxing ceremony of sorts she performed every time she had that nightmare. She had cleaned the revolver so much as of late that she was afraid she would damage it, such as US Marines were prone to over cleaning their own firearms.

Her mind drifted about as her hands performed the intimately familiar actions of cleaning her revolver. Why did Eimi hate her so much? Perhaps hate was too strong of a word, but Lyn had definitely sensed a strong degree of dislike from the younger woman. Certainly it wasn’t just because Lyn was bad with technology and Eimi should be at the tail end of the teenage moody years, if not past them entirely. If anything Lyn would have expected Eimi to seek some sort of friendship with her if only because Xaara, the only other woman on the crew, seemed intent on being as distant from everyone else as possible. Was it because she was an ex-cop? Did that make her some sort of symbol of authority that Eimi found repulsive? Lyn set her cleaning tools down as she sighed.

If anyone disliked her because of her previous career, she would have expected it to have been Poole. He was… an enigma to her. Lyn’s hands began to reassemble her revolver as thoughts of Poole brought a deeper frown to her face. She wasn’t sure if he liked her, [i]liked[/i] her, or was waiting for the opportunity to rip her head off. That worried her. A lot. He was a reformed felon, but not in the sense that he never wanted to hurt a living thing again, even a fly. No, he was certainly still more than happy to inflict pain when he deemed it appropriate. Instead he had fallen into religion. Strange man indeed.

Having finished reassembling her revolver, she looked it over with a critical eye, checking the action and every working part. It wouldn’t be funny if she had forgotten to put something back in while her mind roamed. Satisfied with her work, she returned it to its rightful place at her waist and headed towards the door. Perhaps she would give her motorcycle another shot…

The sight that greeted her upon reaching the cargo bay caused one of her eyebrows to shoot up. Lyn had never pegged Jeremiah to be the proactive sort, yet here he was working on her bike. Was it that the engineer in him couldn’t stand seeing her bike in pieces or was he simply trying to distract himself from what must have been a horrid hangover? Whichever it was, Lyn was content to watch, for a time. She leaned against a nearby wall, arms crossed in front of her, as she watched him at work.

“You sort of remind me of my dad” She finally spoke up after a few minutes. “He would’ve worked for days on end if my mother and I hadn’t bothered him with the likes of dinner and needing to sleep.” She felt her earlier frown fade away into a smile as her thoughts turned towards home.