The cold did fade, quickly, and with it the pressure. The presence was slowest to go, and even then it didn’t leave her completely. Quinn’s messages went out, and, expectedly, she received no response from Dahlia. Besca did reply a handful of moments later though. - [color=gray][i]great hun ! gla d u r making friends :o)[/i][/color] - Inside the cockpit, Tillie stood with Quinn’s phone light, torn. Obviously the appropriate thing to do would be to leave immediately. This wasn’t just like being in someone else’s room, this was a [i]Savior[/i]. People like her weren’t meant to even [i]see[/i] inside the cockpits, to say nothing of being left inside unattended. To dally would have been wholly unprofessional, and if Quinn decided she’d waited too long, or if one of her superiors happened to check the feed, she could be very justifiably fired. But…when else would she get a chance like this? She could be quick. Using the phone as a guide, Tillie approached the seat and carefully, [i]very[/i] carefully, hopped up onto it. The cushions were surprisingly soft, but still utterly frigid. As she leaned back against them, the chill shocked her, pushed through her back all the through her chest, her legs, her face. She rested her head against the frame, and felt the barest tickle of the plug’s input against her neck, a focal point of cold almost like a needle. Of course, she had no housing for it, and the last thing she wanted to do was bleed all over Quinn’s cockpit. She lay there, shivering, but inwardly as settled as she might be lying in her own bed. She felt her face split for a smile, her cheeks burning, the corners of her lips cracking. A horribly embarrassing giggle escaped her, and she was thankful there was no one around to hear it. For a few, transcendent moments, she wasn’t Tillie Tomm, Modiologist. And she didn’t quite feel like Tillie Tomm, Hero Pilot, either. Just then, she was Tillie Tomm, Turning Ten, and it was the happiest she’d been in a long, long time. When she emerged from the Savior’s skull, she was quaking like a leaf, her face was beet-red, except for her lips which were graying. She rubbed her arms and cheeks furiously, and squeezed her hair, which crackled like ice. Her glasses were frozen over, and she rubbed those clear too. If she was at all uncomfortable, she showed no sign of it. All Quinn saw was a wide, goofy grin, and the giggling that came with it. “[color=f26522]T-t-t-that was a-am-mazing! Thank you [i]s-so[/i] much, I-I’ve d-dreamed about that forever![/color]” She held out Quinn’s phone, unscathed save for a bit of frosting over the screen. “[color=f26522]U-uhm! B-b-but I d-definitely get wuh-wh-why you guys wear h-heated suits![/color]”