[b]Penny[/b]

Cupcake! Josey called her Cupcake and she loved it. She ducked her head, her loose red hair falling across her plumped up cheeks, her mouth stretched into a broad grin. She nodded and darted off to do as he said. Molasses for Moonshine, she was more than happy to help Jack. She hadn’t done more than sweep her eyes around the kitchen before, but it was well enough organized and Josey had pointed her in the correct direction so it was easy enough to find the baking pantry, her pantry after all. She drew up short as she nearly ran into Henry who was had procured himself a mop and was cleaning the floor with a ferocity that made her pause before circling around him. She felt a little pang at the slump to his shoulders and the tight aloof way he held himself. It didn’t take a genius to see that he felt out of place, adrift and she wasn’t sure how to feel about that. Part of her, the part that her family had teased her about, chiding her for being too easily taken in, wanted to throw her arm around his shoulder and bring him into the conversation. But his words haunted her, he’d raped someone. He’d been to prison for it. This made her want to avoid him. The contrast made her feel unsettled but she simply couldn’t be cold, no matter what. She couldn’t stop the small smile she flashed his way, small and encouraging and sweetly sad. 

Her pantry was a refuge, a delightful, delicious distraction. Bins of ingredients lined up on the shelf ready for whatever she wanted to do with them. Oh she was certain some of them were fabricated, they were on a space ship after all. Fabricated products were a growing part of her field as new breakthroughs were made in food science and she was familiar enough with them. She preferred the real thing, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. She found the Molasses on a shelf a little higher than she’d want to keep it and had to fetch a stool to reach it. She made a mental note to reorganize her space. 

 She pulled the correct jar down, looked it over and was pleased it was real honest to goodness Molasses. She’d never had moonshine, never been one for drinking, but she loved the idea of the whole thing. A space, speakeasy. How perfect. The thought made her bounce on her heels a little as she left the pantry, jar in hand and caught the tail end of Jack’s little speech. Oh how she loved his wonderful charming, rolling way of speaking. She felt her grin growing as she handed over the molasses. 

“Do I step?” she asked, charmed but clueless. Her smile didn’t falter but her brow puckered as she tried to follow what he was saying to her. Stepping seemed to be at the heart of his discourse, as well as truth and maybe gum. She laughed and nodded, not knowing what else to say. She had the feeling that with exposure his chatter would make more sense and in a moment of dawning realization she understood he wanted to hang out with her. She liked the thought of that, of being friends with this grinning man who was so quick to laugh.

“Alright, Jack.” She said with a laugh of her own and a nod. “I’ll step with you and you can tell me how you plan on making moonshine. I’ve never had any but I’m very curious. I also want to know about gobs. I suppose I’ll be here after dinner, well in the dining area I guess. I’ve got some inventory to do but more importantly, some cooking. I need to make cookies, Chocolate chip.” She said as her eyes flicked to the skinny boy bent over his tablet. 

[b]Stella[/b]

Stella looked quickly, up almost startled as his teasing question pulled her out of the notes that wanted to pull her back in and under. She smiled a crooked little smile at him and her eyes almost twinkled. Despite her near start she seemed almost comfortable with him, as if she was just grossly out practice at speaking to people in a one on one setting. This was actually the case and something she always meant to work on, but never actually managed as the impulse to flee and to migrate pulled her in stronger ways. But now she was on a damn space ship, one of the last of her kind and there was no more fleeing despite being in the midst of a migration. 

“No choosing.” She said. “But not both at once. We don’t want to confuse them anymore than they already are.” 

She pointed to the door that led to the working area of the veterinary clinic, the space important enough for her to remember despite the insanity of her brief tour before she was put under. The door hissed open as she approached and she jumped a little, the gesture evidence of her still being a little wound up. Scowling at the door she passed through it and led the way to the enclosure where the tigers were kept. As she walked her eyes caught onto the wall containing the slide in refrigeration units meant to hold bodies and noted that quite a few of them, of varying sizes had lit up panels that indicated they were occupied. She paused, counted, made a soft huffing sound and continued on her way. 

“Here we go.” She said and punched in her code that slid the enclosure open. Warm damp air filled with a very organic, earthy scent wafted out the door, a scent with notes of fur and wild. With the scent came some slightly growling mewling and she laughed. 

“Oh, perfect timing.” She said. “Feeding time no doubt.” 

The view was impressive, a lush jungle scene with rustling greenery, the distant calls of jungle creatures, some of which might be real, and only a slight shimmer in the air to delineate the field that separated the enclosure from the rest of the bio dome. In the corner of the small enclosure were three waddling little forms, stubby, stripped things that would someday be able to kill a man but for now looked lost and hungry, crouched in the corner. She felt a wash of pity for them. The world they were born and abandoned into wasn’t real. They would never really be free, never know what it was to be a tiger, they would only know this half-life and it seemed so painfully pointless she was glad her back was to Mr. Eadoré so that he would not see the bleakness that came over her. She schooled herself and moved to where the bottles full of formula should be kept. 

“If you handle Mowzer these should be no trouble at all, scoop one up.”