[indent][indent]The smell of old metal bugged him more than anything else. It scarred his nostrils with its rancid scent and yet he felt the most comfortable around those space coffins the others call mobile suits. His Graze-Z was reliable, he thought while staring at its looming frame from the catwalk. Buzzing Human Debris set to work completing repairs. Somewhere nearby, Holly was badgering Lefty and the old mechanic was giving it back to her. He glanced this moment later, the gold of his eyes moving independent of his whole head. For some reason he couldn't place he found himself sliding back into the sleeves of his pilot suit; perhaps he was getting cold, there was a certain chill crawling along his spine. 

A muted sigh escaped him, [i]They're so loud, though I guess Holly's always had that infectious energy.[/i]

Thom went back to absently scrubbing the railings with the dirty rag in hand. As he did so an alarm rang out, a familiar one. It cut through the noise of the hangar though that paled to Bosun's voice. It was harsh but Thom turned a blind-eye to the smack that bloodied Holly, though his jaw tightened instinctively. An echo of the pain he knew accompanied Bosun's fist.  

"Tsk," he hissed before floating off towards his Graze-Z. Out the corner of his eye he caught Martyn moving too.

"Pawn, get your ass in gear!" Bosun yelled towards him. 

Thom made sure to put some pep in his leaps as he hurried to his cockpit. The younger kids scurried away, one in particular taking his time. "Good luck," he mouthed, rubbing snot from his nose. 

He dared a nod of avowal to the kid before leaning back and feeling the sudden, searing pain of his 'Whiskers' interfacing with the machine. He jerked slightly as the pain eased into a more bearable sensation. His dark bangs fell over his face, his voice seemed to be faraway, [i]I won't die, I won't die, I won't die, I won't die, I won't die... I'll face what comes and survive.[/i][/indent][/indent]