[b]Mark A. Lopez[/b] [hr] [quote=@Dyelli Beybi] "Velia Larci," she replied, "Communications," she said, leaving out any other pertinent details and making her seem like an office worker, "I also don't dp pep talks. I drink things." She took a larger swig of her whiskey, taking the bottle back off the pilot and topping her glass up before handing it back to him. "What do I think?" she asked before answering her own question, somewhat facetiously, "I think that I was kinda both looking forward to and dreading the 'Crybaby Nebula' comeback tour but I rather suspect they're making their way through insectoid intestines at this point. Which, incidentally would be a great name for a band: 'Insectoid Intestines'." She paused, then grinned, "Relax buddy. We're in space. Unless the Metacer can jump into orbit now, we're quite safe." [/quote] Mark let his eyes rest on Velia a moment, something about the way she carried herself, half-grin and all, struck a nerve that hadn’t twitched in a while. He gave her a short nod then said plainly, “Mark.” He didn’t press the moment. Not the time. Maybe not the place. Still, it felt good to say his name like it meant something again. He leaned forward, glancing toward the door and the corridor beyond. The sounds of the station weren’t distant. People shouting. Something smashing. Another voice screaming a name that never got answered. “I wouldn’t count on the Metacer being our only problem. People’re already cracking. Food’s limited, water’s rationed, the vents are pushing hot air, and someone’s already got a shiv in their back down in sector three.” Mark turned the tequila bottle in his hand once, then set it back down. “I say we take our shot before this place turns into a coffin. Ship’s our best chance. Maybe our only one.” The doors opened again and the blue-glint of a hydration suit caught his eye. He turned just as the aquatic alien stepped into the bar and approached the group. Mark wasn’t used to seeing one of her kind up close, but the suit said more than the species ever could. [quote=@Bentus] [h3]Fihlyn Numosath[/h3][hr] The Drink was well-lit with its neon sign, and it seemed to have become a refuge for those seeking respite from the unfurling apocalypse outside. As Fihlyn stepped inside, her hydration helmet caught the light oddly, a shimmer playing over her scaled skin. Her stomach growled as she picked up on the smell of food from the kitchen, and her eyes rested for a moment on some of the liquor sitting behind the bar. Now wasn’t the time, not when there was a chance that they’d have to leave at a moment’s notice. As she glanced around, Fihlyn’s eyes lit up as she recognized one of the Edenites sitting by the bar. The dark-haired dhasath had been listed as one of the bridge crew - one of the faces that Fihlyn had taken the time to memorize before being properly introduced. She’d found the Edenites usually appreciated the effort, especially when it came to figuring out the pronunciation of their names. Walking over to Velia, Fihlyn’s excited smile was easily seen through her helmet. “You are Communications Officer Velia, yes?” The Quessir’s voice sounded relieved, even as it was transmitted through her suit’s speakers. “It is a pleasure to meet you! I am Assistant Pilot Fihlyn. Flynn, if that’s easier.” Fihlyn’s suit had been adorned with a patch from the CSF, with the colony ship’s number readily identifying her as part of the crew. It registered that the other woman wasn't wearing her uniform, but Fihlyn brushed her confusion aside. She looked around at the other figures that were standing and sitting around the officer. Her friends, perhaps? Other members of the crew, if she was lucky. “I have been trying to contact the station for instructions, but I have not heard back. You are an officer of the ship, yes? Does this mean that you can give commands? We have space for more people, we should be trying to help those that we can.” Fihlyn’s stomach growled again, louder this time. She glanced down at the CSF card sitting in front of Velia. “Although, perhaps there is still time for a snack?” [/quote] Crew. CSF. Pilot. He exchanged a look with Velia, then sat a little straighter as the fish-woman—Flynn, apparently—made herself known. “Well,” he said, a bit of grit cracking through, “looks like we just got another ticket off this rock.” [quote=@Pragia12] Ginny gave Ren a quick look up and down with a furrowed brow, station 6 meant nothing to her, but the way the Kiellar spoke implied things she would leave unquestioned for the time being. Despite this, she'd regard Velia with a growing grin "Well, think we've got a pilot now." her eyes flitting to John with as much interest as Velia. When the fish-woman arrived and identified the CSF-certified pilot affirmatively in front of everyone, the Texarkanan would scoff in amusement, clearly laying low was going to work out in her favor anyways. She'd nod in affirmation, despite not being the officer Fihlyn was looking for. "I've got enough technical chops to do whatever wrench monkey work they'd need in machine spaces." she'd offer casually. "Hydroponics, Engineering, co-pilot." she'd nod down the line to the growing throng of eager would-be crew. "Sounds to me, pep talks aside, we got the right people in the right place with the right ship." she downs the remainder of her glass with gusto, confidence on her lips and courage burning down her throat. "I say we load up that ship with everything not nailed down and try to find solid ground before this station toasts us all alive." She holds up her empty glass in a toast before resting it back on the bar [/quote] The redhead, Texarkanan, no doubt about it, added her voice to the mix. Confident. Direct. No posturing, just intent. Mark raised the bottle slightly in her direction. “That’s what I needed to hear.” He knocked back another drink, set the glass down with a clink, then stood, retrieving his rifle from where it rested against the bar. “Shall we move then?”