[color=E6CEC1]"Sounds like a [i]fun[/i] and [i]exciting[/i] daytrip to squat in another murder-alley for a few hours,"[/color] Daro said teasingly, crossing her legs on the couch. [color=E6CEC1]"I'm bringing a novel to read if it gets boring."[/color]

Joking distracted her from a multitude of doubts which swam into view one at a time, or sometimes all at once, taunting her with memories of other poorly thought-out decisions from her past. Some were doubts over whether or not she was doing the right, moral thing; others whether she was becoming too much of an imposition on Hazan, asking him (without [i]really[/i] asking him) to help her out of a bind which involved attracting the ire of dangerous people.

The question of, 'Shouldn't we get some help?' was bitten back in favour of a light-hearted night in. Archangel had a team, but it was common knowledge that during his last stand, he'd been all alone. Taking on the gangs did not do wonders for one's life-expectancy, nor the life-expectancy of one's friends.

That was a grim thought. She sipped her dextro-brandy through a straw. [color=E6CEC1]"Warehouse aside, how far do you want to take this, Hazan? In the long run."[/color] The conversation had been avoided for long enough now, and given that the pressing danger of being hunted down while she moved out of her clinic had passed, and they had enough dirt on Perix to sell on to his competitors, it was time. [color=E6CEC1]"I owe you, a lot, actually, but we're edging into territory that's less, 'Let me fix you up after a fight gone wrong,' and more, 'Let's see if we can break into this potential merc hideout as a squad of two without dying in a number of horrific ways.' And, maybe it's the brandy speaking––"[/color] [i]Or the company[/i], a traitorous voice reminded her before she managed to squash it down, [color=E6CEC1]"but I'm not exactly against it. The side-effect of making Omega better in the process of stopping those after me is... appealing."[/color]

It was why she was a doctor on Omega and not a mechanic on one of the Fleet's liveships, safely sequestered away after a completed Pilgrimage. It was also why she was a doctor with a shotgun [i]and[/i] a heavy pistol [i]and[/i] a few combat drones ready to go. Her voice was higher, the translation tinnier, as she hastily continued, [color=E6CEC1]"Just a thought. A stupid one that would get us killed, probably. Maybe our curiosity will be sated after recon and we go back to business as usual."[/color]

[i]Or maybe it won't be. Maybe we see an opening and we take it.[/i]