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Hi, great to have you. There'll be more information in the OOC proper (once we figure out how to make it look less like homework and more like something that's supposed to be fun) but if you have any questions now we'll be happy to answer.
What are we waiting for? General IRL stuff or something/someone specific?
Once she was in the clear and back in her own skin, she retraced her path back, stopping by the donut shop she passed earlier as she almost surely wouldn’t be back in time for the hotel’s breakfast. A few hours after her foray into the Starlight apartment complex, Tamara was back in her hotel room with her feet on the table and a donut in her hand, finishing up the Charity donations misappropriation story and getting it ready to be filed. She tried to imagine the expression on Mr. Church’s face when the guard told him someone’s made off with such question-raising pictures, and the image warmed her heart. Those photos alone could’ve caused quite the headache, but combined with the materials her colleague originally working on this had gathered over the past eight months before gallbladder surgery complications put him out of work, she imagined the fallout from this would be much worse. Even if it would be at least a week before the story got published, she couldn’t think of any excuse Church could cook up that would hold any water. Human beings generally did not take kindly to someone messing with their money.

With this sudden, though far from unwelcome bit of work out of the way, she could redirect her focus back to the reason she was back in this city. Of course finding Parahumans and getting them to talk to her to get their side of things wouldn’t be as easy as opening a shitty lock and getting past a blinded mall cop, since parahumans were all either in a para camp, blissfully unaware of their state or hiding it like she was. Sure, there was the Church of Para, but if even half of what she could dig up about it was true, she’d feel safer punching a bear while wrapped in bacon than intentionally contacting that group.

Fortunately, there were other vectors of approach. She opened a different browser with several recent articles related to parahumans. Increase in funding for para camps, a couple of muggings and robberies, a blown up donut shop… Unfortunately, it wasn’t much to go on, and spread out all across the city. With a sigh, she opened another tab, looking for rental vehicles. Probably a motorbike to get through heavy traffic more easily. She turned the TV on to provide some background noise, currently showing some wannabe comedy so awful one could sprain forehead muscles from cringing.

Minutes later, the room fell into silence. At first she thought the programme interruption was due to a malfunction or an emergency broadcast, but then the same happened to her computer. ”Co do cholery?” Tam jumped in her seat when the voice spoke, standing up as quickly as she was able to and turned around to face the empty room. To placate her panic, she started a full system scan with her laptop’s antivirus, switched off the TV, retrieved her equipment, sidearm and backpack from the bedroom and headed out, double-checking that the door was locked. She had places to be and questions to ask. As always, she stopped by the reception desk to greet the person working there. The hotel employees thought she was just being nice. They’d be surprised if they knew.

EDIT: Addressed the issue of clothing. Changes marked in red.
Heyo. Don't think there's any shapeshifting here, so now it is. (Unless shot down by the powers that be, of course.)

EDIT: Picture of the Robotic Enforcement Unit appears to be broken.
Got room for more?
As a mostly non-drinker, writing a hammered/hungover character is interesting. Like a steakhouse chef writing a vegan cookbook.

Also, I improvised due to the lack of information about the Monroe, so if the ability to use any inert gas as fuel is a problem just shout and I'll scrap that line.
”And I can only assume you weren’t paying attention.” She shot back at Yas. ”And if you start poking around in here, your room’s air con will mysteriously stop working.” she stated semi-seriously at the thought of Rendyl reading her mind, tapping her forehead to indicate what she meant.

As the doctor stood up to leave, Astrid thought to check the time. ”As fun as this was, I better get going too before the witch’s sorcery makes me do something worth spacing myself over. Tango, keep the ship from exploding while I’m ince- incape- in… you know what I mean.” the engineer growled as she collected her winnings, unsure of whether she’s actually gained anything or not, and shambled away. Her unsteady gait wouldn’t look out of place in a zombie flick. She was such a lightweight
Much later...

The awakening was almost as unpleasant as waking up after her capture, only then it was ‘just’ the psychological distress of her situation. But right now, her head seemed to hate her and her throat, drier than the Atacama desert, seemed to disapprove of her actions the previous night. Cracking her eye open, she found a thermos on her nightstand with a note ‘For morning’ propped up against it. How her drunken self managed to fit two languages into that note was beyond hungover, and likely even sober Astrid’s ability to understand. She took a large gulp without sparing it a thought and spat it out immediately after as the thermos turned out to contain rum. Drunk Astrid was such an asshole.

As she grabbed her earpiece and started pulling herself together, testing the limits of how quickly she could move her head without it trying to turn itself inside out, her mind began to wander. So far her isolationist mindset was working - she coped with Anderson’s death much better than most. But Humans were still pack animals. She’d only been on the Monroe for a month, and while the scars of her last ship were still fresh, she wondered how long it would take before it would drive her insane. Even if she spent a good chunk of it - at least as far as she recalled - trading semi serious insults with Josk, she had to admit, despite currently feeling like shit, that last night was fun. Except she couldn’t find her gloves. And shirt.

Ten minutes and some witch's concoction administered by Tango later, she was on her feet and cleaning up the remaining damage. Starting with breakfast was probably a good idea, but Astrid wasn’t at all sure she could keep any food down. As she was still quite irritable from the effects of the previous night, the ship got many unflattering and usually undeserved names whenever a difficulty presented itself. It was shortly after one such difficulty was encountered, just as Astrid was swearing to rearrange the teeth of the person who thought positioning the door panel power supply cable in a way that she had to take out the door motor to get to it was a good idea with a two inch wrench, when the cap made his inquiry.

”Not so loud, pleasethankyou.” she whined at the captain as she turned the volume of her earpiece WAY down, ”We’re at... 31% capacity.” she confirmed via a datapad linked to the ship’s OS to act as a terminal, ”Worst comes to worst we can skirt the atmosphere of any gas giant to resupply a small amount. Helium isn’t as good a propellant as Xenon, but it would do, it's just less power efficient. Rest of the crew still standing?”
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