[center][color=662d91][h1]Cian Flynn - SSV-Intervention[/h1][/color][/center]

Following the tedium of boarding, Cian had quickly and quietly made his way to the crew quarters. He was intent on grabbing a bunk and stowing what little personal belongings and clothing he still possessed. He’d already had his weapons and armour sent down to the armoury, excluding his pistol which he greatly preferred never to leave his side. Not so long ago being assigned to a new ship was quite the exciting, if not nerve-racking prospect for him. He would take the time to see and explore everything he could as soon as he was able, especially in regards to the armoury and kitchen. Quality guns and good grub were of utmost importance to a soldier's fitness after all. Having now been on quite the number of ships in his relatively short time in the Navy had blunted his excitement considerably though and these days he was satisfied to simply learn the ship as he saw it. 

Slowly taking in the crew quarters from the doorway he had to admit that these were among the nicest he’d seen during his time in the service, not that the usual Alliance standard was very high. Still though, improvement was just that. Soldiers like him took what they could get. He glanced around a second more before quickly picking a bunk in the back left corner of the room and heading for it. Opening up the closest locker to the bunk he removed his already folded clothes from his bag and placed them inside, along with several novels, a pack of cookies, a bag of beef jerky and finally a holo-photo showing an angry looking woman with a scarred face and purple hair. The corner of Cian’s mouth twitched slightly upward as he placed the latter down and the motion caused its display to light up. He stared into the unflinching, angry eyes that matched his own as an uncommon feeling of warmth filled his chest. Someone more practiced in human emotion would have identified the feeling as a sort of gratitude, perhaps towards the person in the photo, or perhaps even to the universe itself for allowing her to still exist. Likely both.

Cian closed the locker and took a seat on the bottom bunk next to it, slowly stretching his arms out and massaging the aching muscles in them one by one. It was at that moment that the intercoms kicked on and the voice of their captain; one Ka-Sirin Aemoani came over them. Cian subconsciously lifted his left eyebrow as he listened to what in her own words was a forced speech, but at its conclusion he had to admit he’d heard plenty worse in his time. There were no small number of soldiers out there with buckets of bravado, a want for authority and the desire to give speeches expressing such but who didn’t quite have the charisma to pull them off so just seemed awkward and unqualified. Opposed to them she was at least concise, seemingly humble and to the point.

The redheaded man stood, cracked his neck and headed out the door, thinking all the while about what the kitchen might have high in calories and protein to aid his aching arms and stomach.