[b][center]Pallas Skyborn[/center][/b]

[center][@The Jest][@Conscripts][@Letter Bee][/center]

When the man entered unanounced, Pallas knew that something was up with the High Command. Private talks were exchanged, and messages were dispatched. She had an inkling that this was going to be a long night for Admiral Kherol. Finishing the last of dispatches, the woman stood up in her tailored suit, as she logged out of her computer. She eyed her omni-tool. Canteen was about to close, and it would not do that a man of Alexander Kherol's standing would be left without dinner just because his job.

She dug in her heels and trotted towards the nearest break room, which held a cornucopia of kitchenware and tools. Opening the standard issue fridge, she found a prize. Chicken breasts and vegetables. She would be able to make a good meal with this. Well, she wouldn't match the top of the line galactic cooks, but it was leagues above the gruel the file and rank ate.

Tying her hair and donning an apron, she cut the meat and vegetables into pieces with skill and dedication, finishing with a quick TCHUNK on the cutting board, the knife standing upright. The pan on the stove did the rest as she vigorously shook the meat and the dice-sized vegetables, splashing them with some seasoning and balsamic vinegar.

Now, only one thing remained. The coffee. She poured her special brew into a cup, and placed the well-presented dish on a plate as she strode confidently in Alexander Kherol's room, after discarding the apron. She eyed at those present, before addressing her superior.

"I have taken the liberty of procuring a meal for you, Admiral. Canteen is about to close at this hour." She added, beaming a smile and leaving the tray besides the man. She had done it quite right this time. Only just a few floaty, crunchy bits in the Admiral's coffee.