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[right][hr][color=white][b][b]Pilot's Quarters, Fortuna | In Transit[/b][/b][/color]
February 21st, 3061[hr][/right]
[indent][indent][indent][color=9e0b0f]“Another beautiful morning!”[/color]

A projector flickered to life, and the far wall of Mox’s room was covered by a sheet of absolute blackness. It was connected to the Fortuna’s exterior surveillance feed; she was seeing space, as if through a window. Like plenty of things, it wasn’t nearly as glamorous up close. 

[color=9e0b0f]“Well,”[/color] she said, searching in vain for even the dimmest twinkling of the smallest star. [color=9e0b0f]“S’beautiful somewhere. And morning. Prolly.”[/color]

Killing the screen, Mox set about her waking rituals. First things first: music. A small array of cheap, low-quality, but reliable speakers sputtered garbled noise as she cycled through her options, eventually settling on an album by a band she didn’t really know, in a genre she’d never heard of called “Ionic-Post-Post-Punk.” It was…[i]interesting[/i]. She wouldn’t say she liked it, and it wasn’t something she’d search out on her own, but a bartender in the last place the Fortuna docked had gone on about it for hours and hours over the course of their stay. Changed his life, fixed his marriage, raised his kids. Good stuff, apparently. She figured it was worth a shot. 

Hopefully her immediate neighbors were as open to it, because the quarter’s walls were certainly not thick enough to spare them. It blared through the speakers as she washed and dressed and tried to figure out how exactly someone was supposed to dance to music like this. When all was done, she disconnected her handheld and struck out into the halls. 

[i]Meal time.[/i]

On her way to the mess, she passed the a few early-bird crewmembers, and the good doctor herself, Andrea. She was a quick woman, and not often one for idle conversation, but Mox waved to her anyway. 

[color=9e0b0f]“Shiny day, doc~!”[/color] she said, sing-song and warm as she could as she all but skipped past. She opted for the stairs this morning, letting Andrea have the lift in case she was heading elsewhere. The woman was a bit of a busy-body.

Mox had gotten pretty good at navigating the old bucket of a ship. It was labyrinthine in some places, cavernous in others, and comfortable pretty much nowhere. But, it didn’t have to be comfortable to be cozy, and despite the fact that the temperature regulation didn’t always do it’s job quite so perfect, Mox always felt a distinct warmth as she traversed its halls. 

The mess was burgeoningly busy, it seemed. Crewmembers were trickling in, but Mox spotted a couple of her fellow pilots nearby and beamed. She hurried through the line, and quickly took a seat at a table between them. Thankfully they weren’t spread enough that she had to yell.

[color=9e0b0f]“Howdy boys. Grub looks good today, don’t it?”[/color] She tore a chunk off one of the gray globs and popped it into her mouth. It was…pretty much exactly what she expected. But she made a loud [i]'Mmh!'[/i] sound anyway. [color=9e0b0f]“Y’know, I reckon they’ve added a new flavor, don’t you? I’m gettin’ a bit of paprika in mine I think. Ain’t that somethin’?”[/color]
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