[center][b][h3][color=00ff00]J'eon the Blacksmith[/color][/h3][/b][/center]

Loud noise and a flash of light up on the hillside caught the massive blacksmith's attention, but by the time they arrived, there was little to see, aside from a scorched spot in the grass. Jeon knelt down and rubbed the spot, taking in the carbon and the curious sour smell.

"This... I would learn as well," J'eon replies. Truly, the humans were a font of knowledge.

[hr]

[center][h3][color=00ff00][b]Jack Mallory, X.O.[/b][/color][/h3][/center]

It was the beep from his phone that woke him, linked into the time server of the ship. Jacks' fingers fumbles for it on the desk, silencing it quickly. He signs, rocking slightly in the makeshift hammock, his bed occupied by some of the involuntary guests they picked up, a music group that was supposed to be performing before the shooting started.

"Didn't expect this gig," he muttered softly. Apparently, they didn't object to sharing a bed.

Gripping the sides of the hammock carefully, he rolls his legs slowly over the side and leans forward, slowly tipping his feet to the cold deck. He changed quickly, slipping on a pair of crew's coverals and his boots, then grabbing his toiletries kit. Softly crossing the room, he slid open the curtain and spied the three lumps in his bed, softly snoring still. Giving his head a shake, he pressed the door button and it slid open, revealing an otherwise empty corridor as he made his way to the ship's head.


Grabbing a ration bar and a cup that audaciously tried to pass itself off as coffee, he made his way to the bridge.

"Good morning," Jack muttered, taking in the compact bridge with a glance. "So, what happened in the night?"