Cyne sat at the table, alone after Silas and Gerad retired for the rest of the evening. Cards laid strewn about the flat surface in messy collections where their holders previously occupied while a row of winning cards and a pile of credits was amounted on Cyne's end. He leaned back and grinned, satisfied in his winnings and his efforts after being dealt a harsh and costly blow by Gerad earlier on. The set back was not easy recovering from.

The room grew quite once everyone left, leaving himself and his own thoughts as his company. Peering to his left, he could see a row of screens emulating accelerated space just beyond the six meters of internal infrastructure, hull, and armored plating that separated him from the outside as if they were windows. Specks of white; distant stars whose light managed to be captures during their FTL transit, streaked by as blurred lines in contrast to the blackness that emplaced their surroundings. Checking his watch, it was nearly ten minutes to midnight; per the galactic standard time anyway. It was only recently that he had gotten used to the time schedule for space travel versus the schedules for the many different planetary cycles of worlds he'd visited.

Seeing as there was little for him to do, he gathered his winnings and retired to his quarters, where he would attempt to drift off to sleep and hope to be unconscious for more than 12 hours all the while mentally grappling with himself to silence the inhuman screaming that still lingered.