[color=FFB435]”And I can only assume you weren’t paying attention.”[/color] She shot back at Yas. [color=FFB435]”And if you start poking around in here, your room’s air con will mysteriously stop working.”[/color] she stated semi-seriously at the thought of Rendyl reading her mind, tapping her forehead to indicate what she meant.

As the doctor stood up to leave, Astrid thought to check the time. [color=FFB435]”As fun as this was, I better get going too before the witch’s sorcery makes me do something worth spacing myself over. Tango, keep the ship from exploding while I’m ince- incape- in… you know what I mean.”[/color] the engineer growled as she collected her winnings, unsure of whether she’s actually gained anything or not, and shambled away. Her unsteady gait wouldn’t look out of place in a zombie flick. She was such a lightweight[hr][center][h3]Much later...[/h3][/center][hr]The awakening was almost as unpleasant as waking up after her capture, only then it was ‘just’ the psychological distress of her situation. But right now, her head seemed to hate her and her throat, drier than the Atacama desert, seemed to disapprove of her actions the previous night. Cracking her eye open, she found a thermos on her nightstand with a note ‘For morning’ propped up against it. How her drunken self managed to fit two languages into that note was beyond hungover, and likely even sober Astrid’s ability to understand. She took a large gulp without sparing it a thought and spat it out immediately after as the thermos turned out to contain rum. Drunk Astrid was such an asshole.

As she grabbed her earpiece and started pulling herself together, testing the limits of how quickly she could move her head without it trying to turn itself inside out, her mind began to wander. So far her isolationist mindset was working - she coped with Anderson’s death much better than most. But Humans were still pack animals. She’d only been on the Monroe for a month, and while the scars of her last ship were still fresh, she wondered how long it would take before it would drive her insane. Even if she spent a good chunk of it - at least as far as she recalled - trading semi serious insults with Josk, she had to admit, despite currently feeling like shit, that last night was fun. Except she couldn’t find her gloves. And shirt.

Ten minutes and some witch's concoction administered by Tango later, she was on her feet and cleaning up the remaining damage. Starting with breakfast was probably a good idea, but Astrid wasn’t at all sure she could keep any food down. As she was still quite irritable from the effects of the previous night, the ship got many unflattering and usually undeserved names whenever a difficulty presented itself. It was shortly after one such difficulty was encountered, just as Astrid was swearing to rearrange the teeth of the person who thought positioning the door panel power supply cable in a way that she had to take out the door motor to get to it was a good idea with a two inch wrench, when the cap made his inquiry.

[color=FFB435]”Not so loud, pleasethankyou.”[/color] she whined at the captain as she turned the volume of her earpiece WAY down, [color=FFB435]”We’re at... 31% capacity.”[/color] she confirmed via a datapad linked to the ship’s OS to act as a terminal, [color=FFB435]”Worst comes to worst we can skirt the atmosphere of any gas giant to resupply a small amount. Helium isn’t as good a propellant as Xenon, but it would do, it's just less power efficient. Rest of the crew still standing?”[/color]