[center][h3]Teg (Cora)[/h3][/center]
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Teg's head was pounding. She'd spent the day and night of respite that Maria had generously offered them, resting. Which meant that she had been drinking and gambling at a prodigious pace usually only matched by those facing an imminent and gruesome death. In a matter of hours she'd managed to gamble away at least a months worth of credits in the backroom parlor of an undoubtedly illegal bar filled to the brim with pirates. Drunk off of some strange beverage that the passed as drinkable to the Glao, she'd accused no less than three of her fellow revelers of cheating and almost started a gunfight before the bartender had politely asked her to put her pistol away. Teg reflected with a smile that it was the shotgun that he was pointing at her head that really sold it. A round of drinks bought with the last of her credits settled the matter and Teg left the bar in the early morning in search of food certain that she had made several new friends.

Broke, still drunk, and full of joy Teg had thus returned to the ship well after breakfast. She noted with great pride that her attire was only a bit ruffled and that she hadn't even lost her hat. In a tragedy of epic proportions, Teg's dreams of sleep were unfortunately shattered when the Captain grabbed her the second she boarded the ship. Muttering dark threats and mentioning the value of haste, the Captain had assigned her to the loading party. Teg felt certain that loading heavy crates of dubious legality had never been part of the original job pitch, but she knew all to well that there was no strong union of space mercenaries to shoulder her righteous cause. She would have to suffer quietly yet again.

Struggling with a crate full of what she felt was the heaviest ammunition the she could reasonably remember ever having carried, Teg only vaguely listened to what the Captain and Socket were discussing. It was too early in the morning for talking, especially loud talking. However, the mention of a guest set electric charges of recognition surging through the alcohol addled synapses of her brain.

"Tall, creepy looking dude with a suit of metal armor?" Teg began, happily dropping the crate of ammunition with a loud bang. Turning towards the Captain and Socket, Teg lazily scratched the back of her neck and perched lightly atop the crate. "Yeah, I saw him. He was sharpening his blades and staring daggers at a cup of coffee in the mess hall. I'm not sure if he knows it's for drinking. Someone should probably make sure that he doesn't murder Kev. Or more importantly stop him before he decides to interrogate our coffee," she added with a shrug of her shoulders.