Junebug smirked at Neil taking the cup from his hands and setting it down on the table that was bolted to the deck beside the bed. It glowed for a moment as the integral magnets inlaid into the surface fastened the cup down so it wouldn't become a missile if the ship maneuvered hard enough to beat the artificial gravity.

"Well," she said, stretching out a heel to push the door shut with a click. Reaching down she unzipped her flight suit and pulled it down baring her shoulders and breasts. The owl tattoo on her shoulder stood out in the overhead light. The slight difference in tone where her skin had grown back after her diesel burns, the puckered flesh where bullet wounds had healed. She was acutely aware of the contrast she made to Indra with her perfect skin and holostar body. It made her feel like an ugly duckling. She climbed on top of Neil pinning him to the bed with her hips.

It had been a strain, acting calm throughout the elaborate public funeral, dealing with Indra's grief and quietly negotiating her way out of government service, all the while knowing that he was floating up there in the dark. Sure, in theory he was perfectly safe, but machines and people fucked up, and she had fucked up plenty of times. Other people had died for it after-all, why not Neil. She shoved him roughly down onto the bed ignoring his wince of discomfort before leaning in and kissing him passionately.

"Let's talk about that..."