“Shorts? Oh, they’re...well, they’re what the man with red hair is wearing over there.” Freyr pointed to a barrel chested sailor with incredibly muscly legs bound by tight navy shorts. He was part of a group of bare chested men playing volleyball on the sand. Freyr ripped her eyes away from the scene to look back at Vreta. “A waiver sounds like something Masgard or the Captain will want to know about. I’m sure if your meds are ready for import onto the ship straight away, that will be preferable.”

Freyr really wished she’d brought some shorts with her to the beach room. Vreta looked quite comfortable half submerged in the water, if a little bit predator-esque to her evolutionary watering hole instincts. She contented herself by moving each of her legs back and forward to get the sensation of rushing water on her skin. “Yes of course, how stupid of me. Obviously the captain would’ve thought of that for her soldiers. I’ll just need to ask her to provide suits for my team as well.”

Freyr was surprised to learn about the level of surveillance on Rothia. While she personally didn’t mind too much - she worked in an environment that ostensibly was scanning her entire being a trillion times a second, she knew some people took their privacy very seriously. “I see. Do you not feel uneasy about being watched all the time? How long has that been going on? Studies have shown that humans who know they’re always under surveillance are more prone to stress-related illnesses. Have you found that to be the case with Rothians too, or not?”