Besca tried to remember if the name was familiar to her at all, but she’d never been a particularly fashionable person. Life in RISC had reduced her wardrobe to a series of nearly-indistinguishable long-sleeved shirts and button-ups and dress pants, and now and then she still found herself donning a long coat out of habit from her days in the lab. Thinking about it, she hadn’t owned a purse since she was a teenager; these days anything she couldn’t keep on her phone she kept in her office, where she spent most of her time anyway. 

Quinn had been like that for a while, or really, up until now. A lot of pilots tended to eschew fashion for comfort when they were station-side. Dahlia likely wouldn’t wear anything besides sweat pants and a tank top until it was her turn on the Ange, and she suspected the change would be grudging. But now Quinn had something different, something she couldn’t train in, and that had to be kept as far away from a pilot’s regime as possible for its own sake. It was…a relief. It was hopeful. Besca wanted her to have as many opportunities to wear that dress as she could.  

She tried not to think of how few that might be. Not now. 

As Quinn finished the tour of her room, Besca was surprised by the view. Not that she didn’t see one just like it every day, but there was something about having it in the room. She’d spent such a large chunk of her life in space now, the void didn’t intimidate her like it used to, and she thought she might find a window like that quite pleasant. 

The camera flipped back around, and Besca met Quinn’s smile with her own. “[color=gray]You worked hard today huh? You’ve earned some rest in a room like that. Don’t feel bad about sleeping in a bit, too. I know things are less rigid there, you don’t have to prove anything, alright? Get good sleep, don’t forget to eat, and don’t push yourself too hard. Loan or not, the most important thing is that you’re okay. Okay?[/color]”