Damn. The juice had gone bad. Eh, whatever. Tibulus still had that wine from a forever ago that he could drink in case he ever wanted to drink... which was never. He was glad to finally have that urge to drink something once more. Tibulus had been without that for too long.

Stryker mentioned something about a firing range being built in the gym of the ship, and that sounded like a decent idea to Tibulus. It would give him a place to test out his robot for after the surgery, should he want to adapt it to being a combat asset as opposed to just a surgery bot. That wasn't a bad thing, but nor was it all that great unless everyone was dying as a collective unit at once.

[color=a7a7a7]"Hey Grayson. If you need help with that firing range, lemme know,"[/color] Tibulus noted as he went back to the engraving of his robot head. It needed a name that captured it's grace and majesty.

Maybe Grace. Or Majesty.

Or Debbie.