When Shy first laid her eyes on the ship, the Caelestis, she might’ve drooled a little bit. Ship maintenance wasn’t necessarily her specialty, but she could work with the best of them, and she knew salarian engineering when she saw it: she was pragmatic, sleek, frugal and optimized. Clean of wanton sentimentality but not without careful and detail-oriented craftsmanship and advanced specifications. She wondered if she had read the posting correctly, that the captain of this ship was indeed an asari, but the captain was one such creature indeed. There was a hint of disappointment that there was no salarian on board, though her face did not show it, and she eventually found her quarters post the clipped and fleeting introductions. Asari, as captivating as they are, she understood -- as bounded as her ability to understand was -- to be perennial fixtures of their communities and less likely given to flights of fancy. Shy’s own established susceptibility toward transience all but guaranteed this voyage and her membership within to be nothing short of ephemeral.

What few personal belongings she possessed such as clothes and the like were placed onto a bed, but the rest of her belongings she hauled off to the cargo bay where she suspected most of her work would be done at her leisure. She didn’t expect to last long of course, and in this respect, just gave the cargo bay and the engine room cursory glances; pulley systems to lift heavy loads, how well ventilated the room was, where the power boxes could be found, the drive core, the workbench -- she didn’t expect to do much here, maybe a couple of tasks until Naryxa decided they didn’t like her for one reason or another. That being said, she hadn’t worked for an asari before, but that didn’t mean her hopes were up. If Citadel politics were anything to go by, they were apparently stricter than humans. Not exactly the type of people she’d want to get a face full of eezo exhaust for.

Her omni-tool beeped, notifying her of Naryxa's summons -- shit, were they telepathic too? No, it was apparently a crew-wide meeting. Unless they were telepathic and wanted to chew her out in front of everybody, but that probably wasn’t likely. Probably. Regardless, Shy sighed, picked up her bag of tools and decided to head back at her leisure so that she could properly lay her eyes on the interior of the ship to take it all in. If it meant getting to fiddle around with salarian tech, then on second thought, she might actually be a little eager to be working on the Caelestis.

What she was expecting to be a little group bonding exercise that everyone hated turned out to be a little different. When she was expecting to find a bunch of chairs in a circle where they would sit and talk about their favorite colors, she found instead Naryxa facing the crew -- one of which she found was an actual [i]vorcha[/i] that made her spine crawl -- with a guest; a woman, a hungry looking thing whose smoldering eyes sung greater sorrows than she could dare express, cast a spell on the room that weighed the air upon everyone’s shoulders but was lost on Shy. She looked around with curious glances, apparently oblivious to the threatening and looming specter which imposed itself upon the crew.

Naryxa warned them of a skirmish and civilians getting caught in the crossfire, and Shy’s recollection of her last crew’s shootout with the Blue Suns came with crystal-clear clarity. If she wasn’t there, good at fighting or not, then they likely would’ve been killed right there and then. She made an entire career of automating dangerous tasks, and received accolades for her designs. Though she didn’t necessarily want to make enemies on the station, one of the only places  where she could safely hide, she [i]also[/i] wanted to work on this ship. There weren’t many opportunities for new jobs coming through these days, and Naryxa’s profile was one of the first new faces she’s seen in a while. Shy wasn’t sure if she could afford to lose it. Besides, the way she spoke was so--

“Sure,” Shy blurted out unexpectedly. Her affect was flat and tone slightly acquiescent. Her eyes traveled the room a bit, expecting their own upon her. Being a young woman, dressed in her casual clothing and being of slight build, she did not look the part of the soldier. “I’ve worked on Omega’s systems and power grid a lot,” she explained, “electrical, security, defense, comm networks… I can get you in without a problem. I can deploy two defense and combat drones to cover our backs, too. If you’re just going in to get someone out, it should be a cakewalk. So, yeah. Sure.”

The young engineer played with the corner of her shirt absentmindedly, expecting some kind of judgement from the others as she usually did. There was no doubt in her mind or lapse in confidence that this was something she could do. Whether or not she actually wanted to was a separate matter, but her options were kind of tight at the moment. If nothing else, it might help to cement her place on the ship, and if she's lucky, it might justify a bit of future procrastination and delegation of her duties. So, she just gave the others her best forced, awkward, and pursed smile she could muster as she awaited the verdict for their plan of action.