"Attention, all officers. Report to the officer's lounge in one hour and thirty minutes. We have business to discuss about tomorrow..."
The final announcement over the intercom made Greyson suppress a groan. Yes, he was a navigator, but the captain already had a navigator as his right-hand man and practically best friend. When it came to local area planning, there surely wasn't anything that required Greyson's 'expertise'. But then, the washed-up adventurer quickly reminded himself, he would be nothing more than another one of these wild dogs being led into danger half-blindly. That was the reason he had lobbied for his position as an officer: so that at least he'd have a medium of control over this tub so he could not die so quickly.
Giving up on finishing the remnants of his food, Greyson hoisted himself out of his seat, only bothering to pick up his tray as an afterthought. One of the work-hands scurring about bumped into Greyson, and he in turn handed over his dishes before he made to leave. Somehow, Grey managed to take his time, inching his way through the throng of scattered chairs and remaining rowdy vagabonds.
One pair of tables had a ten-some of the loud-mouthed men, all rambling and laughing about some various stories. Another end table bore the likes of a cowboy, two mechanically-modified women and a ferret - half of them were smoking. Farther back from where Grey was had what seemed to be one of the ship's engineers, calling out for some pet named Dorkface. The ferret, he guessed. Wordlessly, Grey inched past one more latecomer looking for a seat and finally exited into the hall.
He was at least going to get some shit from his room first.
The final announcement over the intercom made Greyson suppress a groan. Yes, he was a navigator, but the captain already had a navigator as his right-hand man and practically best friend. When it came to local area planning, there surely wasn't anything that required Greyson's 'expertise'. But then, the washed-up adventurer quickly reminded himself, he would be nothing more than another one of these wild dogs being led into danger half-blindly. That was the reason he had lobbied for his position as an officer: so that at least he'd have a medium of control over this tub so he could not die so quickly.
Giving up on finishing the remnants of his food, Greyson hoisted himself out of his seat, only bothering to pick up his tray as an afterthought. One of the work-hands scurring about bumped into Greyson, and he in turn handed over his dishes before he made to leave. Somehow, Grey managed to take his time, inching his way through the throng of scattered chairs and remaining rowdy vagabonds.
One pair of tables had a ten-some of the loud-mouthed men, all rambling and laughing about some various stories. Another end table bore the likes of a cowboy, two mechanically-modified women and a ferret - half of them were smoking. Farther back from where Grey was had what seemed to be one of the ship's engineers, calling out for some pet named Dorkface. The ferret, he guessed. Wordlessly, Grey inched past one more latecomer looking for a seat and finally exited into the hall.
He was at least going to get some shit from his room first.
