[center][color=silver][h3]The Gray Dynasty: Abigail Harlow,
Victor Strade [/h3][/color]

[color=silver]Current Deployment:[/color] Venus[/center]

“Captain,” Abigail snapped tersely as the doors split open to the briefing room. “Did you [i]mean[/i] for the pilot to take off so suddenly? Half of us were nowhere near anything stable.” Her voice lacked all of the cheeriness that it had previously possessed. In her left hand was a bloodsoaked handkerchief, trails of red seeping down her fingertips as her grip whitened her knuckles and shook her hand at the wrist. She had meant to storm up to the cockpit itself but the sight of Victor cowed her into place. Her cheeks were flushed red with embarrassment whilst her mind replayed the last two minutes over and over, and all of this shame and anger was being directed into a frosty glare at the door on the far end of the room. Rather notably, it meant that she could not - would not - meet Victor’s gaze.

Victor looked at the sight of the beyond frustrated Abigail, seemingly not expecting a complaint. “Yes, as I said over the comms we are behind schedule and I’d like to take off before wasting anymore time.” he paused, hoping her question was literal, before deciding to add: “If you have any complaints we can discuss them the next time we’re winding down, not now.”

“None with you,” Abigail sighed again, peering down at her cloth before idly stuffing it into her pocket. “I just think it’s pretty counter-productive of her to take off so suddenly, when we’ve got two old men and a chronically ill person on board. Whilst it’s always fun to feel my throat pop like a water balloon, I’d be mighty worried if our glorious leader broke a hip,” Abigail shot the captain a mischievous grin. Her mood had lifted and she was in good spirits once more - and she let Victor know by taking a jab at him.

Victor smiled, but otherwise ignored her teasing comment. “Don’t forget to discuss your condition with the doctor, will you?”

“Doesn’t she already have my file?” Abigail responded, easing down into one of the chairs as she pulled out the earpiece she was working on earlier and plugged it into one of the consoles. 

“She might, she might not, I wasn’t in charge with supplying the rest of the crew with information. If she has she did it on her own dime and time.” he confirmed, remaining stood at the head of the briefing table.

“Alright...but after we get the first clue. Once things have ‘wound down’.” Abigail wasn’t too bothered with where Victor was standing, as she was too busy fiddling with the screen on the console now. “Looks scary but it’s not that urgent. Besides, it comes with a whole variety of benefits, like...uhm. Like being able to take a nap by saying you need a transfusion. Or being very, very good at playing dead.” She was frowning at the console now with confusion. “Hey, did you hit anything to do with the computers when you attacked that intercom?”

“No, but thanks for reminding me to ask you to please have those fixed, will you? I’ll be using them a lot.”

“None of them are broken - you just don't know how to use 'em…” Abigail mused. She was only half-heartedly adding to the conversation because her attention was focused entirely on whatever she had picked up on. “Well, it looks like a certain “Neslo Nnif” has just dumped a substantial amount of data from a private piece of tech into the system and hooked himself up to all the security cameras and sensors. I'm gonna go ask him what he's up to - don't touch this console, I'm working on something with it.” Abigail pushed herself out of the chair and scurried off to the security room, leaving Victor to his own devices.