[color=silver][center][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/190713/7f7340615e11c92098353c41aa73586c.png [/img][/center]
[right][hr][color=white][b][b]Smith's Rest | Hangar[/b][/b][/color]
January 16th, 2677[hr][/right]
Eli stared at him, waiting. He hadn’t given her an answer; she wasn’t sure [i]what[/i] it was he’d given her, but it wasn’t an answer. A joke, maybe, Percy did that often and never subtly, always with a grin or a nudge of the elbow. 

[color=6ecff6]“Percy, this is important,”[/color] she said. [color=6ecff6]“It’s about the new pilots. Have you seen them? Graham’s brought in nearly half a dozen and they’re all…outsiders. I don’t think any of them are even Alaskan. One looks a [i]raider[/i], Percy.”[/color]

Again her eyes went to the mechanic, and her mouth screwed shut. The worry had gotten to her for a moment, she’d nearly forgotten what was and wasn’t safe to say around nonessential personnel. It was one thing for her to voice distaste in Graham’s decisions to comrades, it was another for site employees to hear dissent from the pilots. 

She sighed, and this time she chose her words a little more carefully. [color=6ecff6]“It could be something worth discussing with one another.”[/color][/color]