Pascal did little more than arch a single eyebrow as the captain decided to stand next to him for his little speech. He knew he was going to have to get to know these people at some point, but he didn't care for being even next to the center of attention at this time. This was a hell of a step he was taking- impulsive, driven by liquor and desperation. Desperation to put something in his life, to distract himself from the thoughts that clawed at his skull every waking moment. To do something meaningful.

When the crew began to file out to the waiting ship, Souchon grabbed up his bag and his rifle case, and left without a word. There it was, the Medusa. A heap of junk, for sure. But a change. Maybe a change was all Pascal needed. He unzipped his bag, wanting to make a final check before approaching the ship. It wasn't as though there'd be a chance to grab anything he'd forgotten. Changes of clothes. Toiletries. A few novels he intended to read in his off hours. Some spices and seasoning to doctor the food. A bottle of pastis, naturally. It probably was a poor idea to bring alcohol, but he didn't relish the idea of a long trip without a drink. If he was Samson, this was his Delilah.

And of course, a photo of his family back home. Max and Marie.

He couldn't help looking, his blue eyes filled with sadness. Staring for far too long, his feet moving with no input from his mind as he looked down at the photograph.

He nearly bumped into one of the other crewmembers- the pilot, he thought, a young woman with an eye-catching shirt and spirited look. He smiled awkwardly and apologetically, quickly crammed the dog-eared picture back into his bag. "Sorry, mon petit cheri," he said with a broad toothy smile, hoping she hadn't noticed his distraction as he zipped the bag back up and slung it over his shoulder. He attempted to force levity and nonchalance into his voice, had a fair-to-middling amount of success. "My thoughts were elsewhere. Pascal Souchon," he said by way of introduction as he extended his hand to her. "You must be the excellent Caelum Jameson, n'est-ce pas? The honor is mine."

Erik smiled as the crew conversed, he was already liking some of them, the ones that were actually friendly enough to make conversation. He looked at the captain then Risty and spoke once more.

"As long as the captain and Caelum give me the okay to tinker with my speciality on the ship, then I don't see any harm in lending you some, I just have to understand what for. The stuff I like most is the kind that can puncture a hole in starship's hull, the bigger, the better. Don't wanna toy around with that kind of payload." He said with a smile, then watched as the pilot darted out of her seat and left the room, unhappy about something. Some of the other crewmen followed suit, Erik himself rising out of his seat, plotting his next course of action. He moved across the room, finding a basket full of fruit. He removed one red apple from inside, then shined it against his shirt before taking a bite.

The fruit was tasty, nice and rip like it had been taken from the tree at the perfect moment. He shuffled back over and grabbed his backpack and jacket, slinging both on his figure. With that, Erik followed suit, taking another bite out of the fruit as he walked. After a short walk, he reached where everybody else was, popping in the door and appearing behind the others who gathered in front of the Medusa.

"Well,she definitely is a pretty ship, looks expensive too. Hope it flies as good as it looks." Erik said out loud to no one in particular, forming his words as to not accidentally piss off the pilot by making a remark about her ship.

MEDICAL LOG 003 - NICKI F SHARPE
CURRENTLY: HOLD ON WE'RE LEAVING WHAT

Nicki looked around as Caelum choke on your own spit one evening and save UNES the bother of killing you Jameson loudly and excitedly announced that they were leaving. Where are the other Psyches. Are you seriously not going to wait on the other- no, looks like you're not, looks like I'm going to be the only one... thought Nicki as Caelum die clambered over the chair like a 5 year old and weaved in and out of the benches.

It took everything in her to avoid swinging one into her shins.

Risty and Tide were getting breakfast, but Nicki didn't like to take off on a full stomach; in fact, she knew that three of the numerous crates full of "Medical Supplies" were actually food rationed stuffed in medicine bottles, hence why she looked like she was well-stocked for the trip...to be fair, the budget only stretched so thin, and she just hoped the crew were properly vaccinated like she was. The real amount of med supplies was absolutely pitiful, but with a surplus of rubbing alcohol and bleach to sterilize things and use them again. She just used some old empty bottles which she bought on the cheap to stuff food into because she didn't know or trust any of these people yet and wouldn't be caught dead eating their food. Who knows what they might add to it?

Nicki stood up, sloping off from the rest of the crew without so much of a nod. She followed Risty outdoors, calling out just loud enough for her to hear - "Hey, you know she hasn't bothered waiting on the other Psyches, right? The UNES are trying to mass-produce those suckers and I'll eat her stupid tye-dye T-shirt if we don't bump into a couple on this trip." It was obvious who Nicki was talking about, because she was busy glaring at Caelum. It was worth sounding even a little bit disappointed so she didn't seem arrogant, but...

...Nicki knew that meant all of the Psyche on this trip belonged to her, and that gave her a grim determination to stick it out until the very end. It also gave her a very possessive streak over that drug; briefly, she considered just how much pain she could put people through if they tried to steal one of those needles right under her nose, and for once, a genuine little smile flickered across her features. It was lost, however, due to the fact nobody was really looking at her.

It was also lost when Nicki got a proper look at the ship. She stared at the hulk of metal in mute disappointment and a bit of horror; that thing was far too old to fly properly. In her mind's eye, she imagined a meteor slamming into the hull, ripping a hole in the structure and dragging everyone - even Risty - out into space. Well, if they started crashing, Nicki knew what to do - shoot up another Psyche shot and pray she can grab a suit in time.

"Looks like it's fully operational!" called out Nicki, clapping her hands together and rubbing them in the cold morning air. She didn't even have to add any sarcasm on that sentence because it was a flat-out lie in and of itself anyway, as she shot a grin at Risty. "Can't wait to see inside, can you?"

Caelum C. Jameson

Caelum hummed in appreciation at the sight of her ship, sinking deeper into the mud-vortex beneath her feet with every second she spent waiting for The Medusa's cargo bay to slowly lower itself. She was thinking about the stars again, masked from Sycamore by the wafer-thin atmosphere and blue skies as clear as crystal; which planet would be first? What would they be doing? The Admiral hadn't told her a thing, only that he needed them to be up in the void before she read the classified files.

The Medusa wouldn't be a regular military bombardier as she had been in the past, Caelum knew. It would be something dangerous, something that painted a target right on their backs if UNES found out. That was the only reason why even the name of the project would shut-off from all but the highest of authority levels. Her fingers twitched anxiously – she'd need to get the captain in on her information, her guesswork.

Of course it would be Pascal Souchon – bringer of doom and misery – who jolted her out of her musings but... was that French? She'd heard a lot of accents and a lot of bastardized languages out in the giant cultural mixing-pot that was the rim of occupied space, some of which called themselves French, but the man's sounded pure, refined.

And the manners! They shocked Caelum out of her usual 'fist-bumps and jaunty salutes' routine of greeting and back into a mindset long forgotten, locked in the domes of Mars and hardly touched in fifteen years. “Charmed,” she said, taking his hand with a weaker handshake than usual. “I must admit, I didn't expect to see anyone from the solar system.”

Caelum quickly turned around to face the others as they slogged through the mud one by one, bristling slightly like an angry cat when she felt they weren't quite as impressed with The Medusa as she was, lacking the wonder in their eyes that she had had back on her first trip. Waving, and raising her voice as much as possible to address even the furthest away crewmembers, she grinned widely. “I know the outside doesn't look like much, but believe me, her guts've been completely replaced. It's the insides that count – and not a single one of her original parts remain, I do believe.”

Tide carefully made his way back to the table, gingerly holding a steaming styrofoam cup in one hand, and balancing two thick bacon sandwiches on a small paper plate in the other. Putting the plate and cup down on the table next to Thomas, he sat down heavily in an empty chair. "Hey, Cap," he said, picking up one of the sandwiches with both hands and taking a huge bite out of it. "Looks like we're shipping out, should we be worried about those empty bunks?"

Still chewing on a mouthful of food, Tide hauled his backpack up onto the table, nearly knocking his coffee over in the process, and busied himself checking over the straps and buckles. Once he was happy that everything was secure, he stood up again, slinging the pack over his shoulder. "I'm going to go take at look at this ship then, see y'all out there."

He retrieved his coffee and the plate of food, his half-eaten sandwich balanced on top of the other, and made his way out of the cafeteria in the same direction the others had taken. Once outside, he stopped to look up through the rain at the Medusa, but quickly hurried on, trying unsuccessfully to keep the water out of his cup and off the food. He hurried forwards, head down, until he reached the relative shelter of the cargo ramp.

"Here you go," he said, handing the plate to Risty, retrieving the remains of his own breakfast in the process. "Make the most of it, I'm guessing it's gonna be foilpacks from here on out."

Val would gladly take the seat, if only it would last so long. Sadly, without a chance to sit down she turned and watched a few people go out. She heaved a breath and sighed, she took her face in her hands and muttered a little to herself. If anyone were around to hear it it'd probably be along the lines of self-discipline and telling herself to be professional, even when others were not. This strict moral training surely would take a toll on anyone, but to her, hardly. Valerie looks like the kind of girl who would take you to the hallway where no-one can see and give you an earful for not following orders. Heck, if you got too out of line, she might even give you a slap. She composed herself, twirled on the spot, hair twirling out elegantly for a moment, short-lived as it runs back and whips her in the face. Graceful.

She strode out, pushing past the receptionist ignoring any comments from her. She had no time for a cheering up, she felt horrible then, a bad first impression -and- she already made an enemy, or maybe just someone to look out for. She'd noticed the judging stare of the psyche and to that she could only think Like you can judge, druggy Although this thought startled her, she hardly thought so lowly of psyches, she knew what they could do and she knew to respect them but for some reason, running a couple miles through thick mud and whipping forest branches puts a dampen on your happy mood.

She looked at the ship, her eyes sparkling "Nice.." she muttered. She'd been on a ship a few times but her eyes drew to the cockpit. It had sleek black metal, which reminded her, startlingly, of the discoloured dark-grey cockpits she used to build as a child. This made her shift in her boots excitedly "Ooh.. This is going to be fun" she muttered to herself.

Thomas reached up and pinched his nose-bridge before rubbing it as everyone slowly began departing from the cafeteria towards the next designated meeting spot. "I doubt it, I'm sure we'll manage to do fine with the bunch we currently have. Though it would certainly make it the more the merrier. Let's hope the remaining stragglers, if there are any, have a good excuse." he says looking at Tide before watching him depart as well. He gives the remaining occupants another stern look before turning towards the coffee machine and stating "I'll be with you once I've had my Coffee." with a dismissive wave of his hand.

As he begins to prepare his coffee his thoughts shoot at the first officer. She was late, with the excuse being her long trek. She seemed fairly young, probably not much younger then him though but that thought could have been caused by her seemingly up-beat and kind aura. Which of course didn't make her any less respectable, kind people were the scariest when angered from what he had gathered. Although he did have his doubts, he still didn't know anything about anyone except from the first impressions and the little information he managed to pick out in the conversations. Hopefully everyone would be able to get along one way or another.

"HEY, HURRY THE FUCK UP! I'M KIND OF RUNNING LATE HERE!"

Scott Riley, his tall and slender physique hunched over in the back of a compact taxi transport, had been yelling like a madman for nearly the whole trip. Today he wore a rather expensive-looking suit complete with tie and leather shoes, the works. Between his awkwardly parted legs (which had no room to stretch at all) was an average-sized briefcase, a sleek black metallic case that made a distinct low thud with each bump and shake of the cab. To add to his frustration the gyrating of the vehicle caused him to bang his head on the roof. Definitely no good for the noggin.

"We're almost there, relax!" the driver shouted back.
"Look, Tony, or whatever your name is, I am heading off to space to go on some crazy mission I know nothing about. SPACE, DIPSHIT! I sure as hell am NOT going to be late for fucking space, got it pal?" Scott leaned over, in between the driver and passenger seat. This particular cab didn't seem to have the protective gate to prevent such behavior.
"Hey, you wanna come up here and drive? 'Cuz I'll come over there and show you how hard it is to drive one of these things!" the driver turned his head to meet Scott's fuming face.
"You know, if I was allowed to fucking drive then maybe I would do it myself. I hired you to get me there pronto, and I don't see pronto right now!"
"I'm over the speed limit by 15 units, you gotta be kidding me! And sit back down, you're distracting me!"

It was at this point that the cab had reached the road to turn on, leading into the forest housing the (in)famous Frontier 60. However, they simply passed it, continuing on the main road. "OH, COME ON! YOU MISSED THE TURN!" Scott yelled as he slapped the dashboard repeatedly, turning his head to look through the rear-view window. The driver promptly slammed on his brakes, jerking Scott forward until they stopped short. Needless to say this caused yet another head injury for Scott. "Gee, I wonder why," the driver remarked sarcastically. "Get out of my cab."

After a pause and a moment of disbelief, Scott angrily stumbled out of the taxi, reaching back to grab his case. It was the only item he brought with him, along with its contents of course. As he passed by the driver window he reached into his pocket and pulled out some coins, mixed with it some scrap paper and lint. In a careless swipe of the hand, Scott flung the contents of his balled up fist at the cab, clearly not intending to aim at the window itself. "Here's your fare, go fuck yourself!" he shouted at the closed window as the cab drove away. A good ten seconds passed by before Scott finally started the arduous trek into the woods. It would be at least a half an hour to walk there, and he didn't have time for that. Realizing this, he reluctantly picked up the pace to a "healthy" jog. Somehow it didn't occur to him that he was still wearing a several hundred point suit as he sloshed through the muddy trail leading to Frontier 60.

Finally arriving at the damned place, his suit now ruined by mud and sweat stains, Scott proceeded through the front door. Wiping the sticky sweat from his forehead using his tie, he made his way toward the receptionist. She glanced at him from where she sat, with a look that clearly read "wait, they're not all here yet?" As she opened her mouth to greet him, Scott loudly initiated conversation instead. "Hey lady, files please, chop-chop." He rested one arm on the desk, and then eyed her up and down before cocking an eyebrow and donning a smirk. "So what's a little thing like you doing in this dump, huh?" Attempting to ignore him, though visibly annoyed regardless, she relinquished the files. "Here you are, Mr. Riley," the receptionist said in as professional a tone of voice as she could manage at this point. She had clearly had enough with today. Gently taking the files between the thumb and index fingers on his free hand (still holding the case in the other), Scott changed the tone on his voice to match hers as if to mock her, "Why thank you, miss. I am ever so grateful to you for providing your humble service." He rubbed his chin and added a question, "By the way, where are the guys n' gals, huh? Please point to the direction they went." Before the receptionist could so much as lift a finger he began again, "Oh, so that's where they went. Thank you for showing me the way. Have a good one, Nancy!"

Leaving the receptionist flabbergasted, Scott began to make a beeline for the Medusa when he spied Thomas still sitting at the cafeteria table. He stopped briefly, pointing to the man and calling out loud, "Jar-head!" before moving on. Upon arriving at the Medusa he continued straight through the small group of people that happened to be his crew-mates. As he passed each one, he called out more names while gesturing to them:

"Psychopath!"
"Pirate!"
"Quiet Quincy!"
"Hulk Smash!"
"Trigger Happy!"
"Klutz!"

Stopping an arm's length away from Caelum and extending his files toward her (practically shoving them at her, actually) he finished his slew of nicknames. "Aaaaaand Take-a-chill-pill. Scott Riley, reporting for duty."

Caelum C. Jameson

Standing somewhat awkwardly, shifting from side to side in the mud, Caelum stared at the newcomer in an attempt to associate him with one of the blacked out files. It had been clear in length alone which was Risty's, same for Nicki's, and the others had named on them. It must've been one of the various blank files, little more than a cardboard folder and a piece of pure, A4 paper lying inside it. Scott Riley, huh.

"Nice to meet you - even if you are a bit late. I'm Caelum," she ended up saying, taking the file with a pensive frown plastered across her face – almost as if she wanted to say something but hadn't quite worked it out yet. Pistons were firing somewhere inside her brain, connecting dots and nicknames to faces.

"Did you just call my doctor a psychopath?" asked Caelum as if she were talking about the weather, absently leafing through the file with an false expression of disinterest across her face. "That's offensive, if you did. I prefer the name F. Sharpe for her – you know, like the musical note? – and... what does 'Hulk Smash' even mean?" Turning quickly towards the now-open ship, she gestured for the crew to head inside to stand in the cargo bay, knowing that the internal doors would be locked until the passcode was entered for them.

She didn't particularly want to think about the offensive new Psyche, not when she had one already, and didn't turn back for an answer. Instead, she busied herself with the files.

"Yeah, I did. It was only a joke though, just a guess," Scott replied in an attempt to play off what he had just done. "Why, is she a Psyche or something?" He took a quick glance at Nicki, seeing that she didn't look so good compared to everyone else. After a moment the pieces fit together in his overactive brain, his face becoming brighter to match. "Oh, I see. F Sharp..." He continued to speak as he returned to facing Caelum, "The Hulk thing was actually from a really old Earthling movie about this big green guy, he liked to-" By now he realized that she hadn't listened for the answer, trailing off, "...smash things."

At his point he turned around and walked straight toward Nicki, once again taking no consideration for anyone that might be in his way by way of scuffing and weaving past them. Scott nearly knocked Tide's breakfast over as he did this. In the moment before speaking to her he gave her the up-down look, followed by a very soft bob of the head. "F Sharp, right? Sorry about before, I didn't realize that you and I were... the same." Here, though a rare occurrence, Scott was actually speaking genuinely. So many years in that damned facility gave him a deep understanding of just what kind of pain and torture the life of a Psyche was every single day. For once he would have the extended company of someone that he could actually relate to. At any rate, it was always a good idea to stay on good terms with any Psyche if it could be helped.

MEDICAL LOG 004 - NICKI F SHARPE
CURRENTLY: In the presence of a like-minded individual...
Nicki was just about to step into the cargo bay before someone said something behind her. Someone new. She nearly cringed at the thought of her own thoughts about to abuse her, until she made out exactly what he had said - Psychopath. For a moment, it took everything to stop herself from crunching The Medusa into a ball of scrap metal at the sheer indignation of it all; she wasn't a psychopath, she was just so smart that everyone else happened to be inferior! Quickly, Nicki spun around to glare at her new worst enemy-

Misogynist. Takes pride in his appearance. Full of himself. Very intelligent - VERY intelligent-... Nicki stopped, a ringing in her ears. There was something, something about him that made him and her similar. The word "PSYCHE USER" was almost imprinted in his blue eyes, in his confidence, because he knew that he was a psyche user. And this, this was an issue for Nicki, something she had to sort right away. But before she could get anything out, Scott started talking - apologising?

MercuryHg34 said "F Sharp, right? Sorry about before, I didn't realize that you and I were... the same."

For once, Nicki's mind drew up a blank for a brief second before she decided what to do next. And in that moment, Nicki didn't converse using words like some sort of simpleton; if he was a Psyche user, he'd know. Because in that moment, Nicki's gaze echoed Scott's in not only sympathy, but also intelligence - the kind where one's mind transcends thinking of itself, a human, as the centre of everything in the universe. An understanding of anything and everything so diverse that it must be insulting to be given things so mundane to do, such as small-talk with a person it's just met, when it can figure out half of someone's past by the way they hold themselves during a conversation anyway.

And Scott may be able to figure out that Nicki must be so very bored with the prospect of this mission so far that she must've felt pretty isolated with all of this brainpower and (almost) nobody there who'd begin to understand it. And with that, Nicki flashed a small and genuine smile - one that betrayed a glimmer of actual joy in the depths of those green eyes - at Scott, before they went cold and analytical and calculating again, and she decided to speak out her next sentence - a warning. "Dip into my Psyche supply and I won't hesitate to remove every single limb from your body whilst using my medical skills to keep you awake whilst I do it," she murmured to Scott with no trace of that genuine smile on her face. However, the tone softened a little as she added, "But I...I look forward to being able to learning more about you."

There was a slight emphasis on the 'more' part, as if she already knew a bit about him already and wanted him to know that in advance. Then she lifted her hand up in a farewell to Psyche-user Scott, and went into the cargo bay.

Nicki said "Dip into my Psyche supply and I won't hesitate to remove every single limb from your body whilst using my medical skills to keep you awake whilst I do it. But I...I look forward to being able to learning more about you."

As Nicki walked away, the emphasis on "more" echoed in Scott's head. With his wild imagination he must have pictured at least half a dozen different... less than decent... scenarios in his mind as he raised an eyebrow in interest. Half out loud and half to himself, he said "You could put me to sleep and I'd still see it coming." He smiled at his remark, and then fixed his tie and jacket. Something to take his mind off of what just happened. He raised his voice to address everyone else now, "Alright, did I offend anyone else just now? Because I would very much like not to be killed by anyone with an IQ lower than 200 on this mission."

Pascal blinked as he was unexpectedly hit by a drive-by nicknaming. He supposed he was supposed to be "Quiet Quincy." Well, he had been called worse things. "Asshole," for one. That had come from an exhausted miner on the Dark Side camp. "Fucking pussy," had come about five minutes later, from one of the other guards, once he had finished beating the miner's head in. Pascal hadn't responded to the insult, but the other guard certainly had.

He tried to push the violent memories, the abuses he had witnessed, out of his head. He didn't really know how the psyche thing worked, but he had jealously guarded his thoughts when he knew himself to be the presence of one, and he understood this ship had two. Fantastic. It didn't really seem like Pascal could control his thoughts, though, ever other signal to cross his synapses was something along the lines of "you asshole" or "you fucking pussy", directed as ever at himself.

The rest of the crew seemed boisterous, back-slapping gung-ho types ready for thrills and chills in the deepest regions of space. He had been like that once, what seemed like ages ago. Those days were gone. He didn't think they'd return.

As much as he tried to be recalcitrant with his thoughts, he thought of the bottle of pastis in his bag. Cool, sweet relief, at list for a little while. As soon as he was settled in, he would get a drink. He had earned it just for getting this far. A nice glass of the anise liquor to take the edge off. That was what he needed. Pascal's mouth began to water just thinking of the nice soothing buzz it would give him.

Risty nodded slightly at Tide, a faint smile crossing her lips as he handed her the plate of food. "Thank you. Foilpacks aren't too bad - I grew up on those tasteless lumps of grey as a child." She said, taking a bite of the bacon sandwich and chewing, savoring the taste. "Hell, I'll give the Defective Alliance one thing - The Strontium Serpents don't have food half as decent as this." She looked over at Nicki, and sighed, eyeing the ship again. "So excited. Never been more excited in my life about anything. Ten credits says the insides look like the outside." She chuckled softly, and sighed, before she eyed the ship again. "Then again, The Glycon doesn't look like much either, but that fucking ship has destroyed more UNES vessels than I can remember." She took another bite, nodding slowly, obviously enjoying the sandwich, before someone, obviously a blithering half-wit, screamed an 'insult' at her. "If he thinks I'm going to be offended by being called by my profession... Well, he's a moron." She thought, shaking her head as Caelum admonished him. Morons were morons - She never paid much attention to them. Once he made a comment on her intelligence, however, she spoke up. "If you think any idiot can work a Drive Core - A SIGMA Core, no less, you don't know shit. Just because you are a Psyche addict doesn't mean you are smarter than anyone else." She walked past him, following Nicki - Attempting to shoulder him as she passed, showing her contempt for the man.

With a glance up at the sky, Risty followed Nicki into the Cargo-Bay, glancing about as she took in the ship. "Hmm. This would work pretty well for smuggling. Maybe I can convince Caelum to let us do some work 'on the side'..." The cargo-bay reminded her of The Glycon's cargo-bay - Nice and roomy, good for watching and taking part in makeshift brawls. With a glance about the room, she imagined her going up against Tide. Even in her imagination, it didn't end well for her, however. With a sigh, she frowned again. "Fuck, she's going to make us stand here looking like morons because we didn't praise her ship, isn't she?" Typical. Fucking Typical.

Risty said
"If you think any idiot can work a Drive Core - A SIGMA Core, no less, you don't know shit. Just because you are a Psyche addict doesn't mean you are smarter than anyone else."

As Risty approached him, Scott chuckled loudly and retorted sarcastically, "Actually princess, it means exactly that. And I'm definitely not addicted to that shit, last time I shot up was at least four months ago." Just as he finished speaking she checked him with her shoulder, walking past him without so much as a glance. "Tough girl, huh?" After a moment he held up his wrist to inspect it for the time, only to realize he wasn't wearing a watch. "Anybody got the time? I wanna get off this dump and into that dump as soon as possible," he said to the group as he pointed a thumb over his shoulder toward The Medusa.

Tide stayed quiet, enjoying his breakfast leaning against one of the heavy struts that supported the cargo ramp, watching the latest arrival with interest. He finished his sandwich, and then picked up his coffee from where he'd balanced it on a railing, just in time to nearly have it knocked out of his hand by Scott. "Whoa, easy fella!" he exclaimed, snatching his cup out of the way. Sipping steaming hot coffee, he made his way up the ramp and into the cargo bay, keeping an eye on Scott, who seemed determined to start a fight with half the crew within minutes of arriving.

He glanced around the large, almost empty room. There was no cargo to speak of, other than three small crates in one corner, so it looked like this wasn't going to be a delivery mission. That had to be a good thing - no cargo meant there shouldn't be anyone trying to take if off them as soon as they broke orbit. Hidden away in the corner near the crates, he noticed a stack of deck chairs. He made his way over, set his coffee down on one of the crates, dropped his pack onto the floor, and pulled out a chair. He kicked it open, set it down in the corner where it faced out into the cargo bay, and sat down to drink his coffee.

Sitting there watching the crew, Tide's eye was caught by the silent, brooding figure of Pascal Souchon. While the rest of the crew were getting along in their own way, this man seemed distracted and distant. On some shelving behind the crates were a few games, including some packs of cards. He took one of the packs from a shelf, and cracked it open. "Hey, Pascal," he shouted across the room, holding up the cards, "Don't suppose you know any good games do you?"

He leant back in his hair, sipping his coffee and watching the crew. He wasn't entirely convinced there wasn't about to be bloodshed, and he wanted to be ready if there was. Possibly ready to get the hell out of there if the psyches were involved... but ready none-the-less.

Erik watched the new arrival, Scott with a curious look. The man was crazy, which eventually meant he would fit right in with the crew of personalities. He stayed quiet, just watching the people shuffle around the ship before the pilot opened it up and motioned everyone in. Erik began following the others in, but paused in step next to Scott, looking the man in the eyes for a second.

"Probably not the greatest way to kick things off, especially with the way some of the crew are. Then again, I'm just the jumpy grunt that handles the high powered explosives, the stuff that can blow apart an entire ship." He said to the man, then and moved into the ship, following the others. He looked around the cargo hold as the crew began to converse with each other, Erik noticing Tide trying to start a card game with Pascal. Perfect opportunity to kick back with some of the friendlier people on the ship.

"Why not poker? I'm sure Pascal and you know how to play it," Erik interjected, grasping one of the chairs, folding it open, then sitting in it, seated to the right of Tide. "Not much skill to it either, mostly just luck and composure." He finished saying with a friendly expression.

Tide and Erik, after sharing some words with Scott, sat down to play cards. "Now, that's something I can get into," he thought to himself. After rushing to get here he was growing impatient and ready to leave at any time, much like the rest of the crew. Casually strolling over and grabbing a chair for himself he said to the two men, "Hey guys, looks like we got off on the wrong foot. Nerves gettin' to me, you guys get it, right?" Now he was sitting in his chair, arranged with the others in a square with one side missing. "So who's dealing?" Scott said, leaning forward in his seat and clasping his hands together. "I'm real good at Black Jack."

At this point he was just desperate for something to do, being idle for long periods of time with nothing specific to do caused more than just slight irritation for Scott. He didn't actually care if he offended these men earlier, or even if they became his enemies. His power was more than enough to handle any living threat he knew of, but it was also enough to destroy himself if atrophied. This was something Scott wanted to avoid at all costs. Heaven forbid if he showed weakness now, nobody would take him seriously and he'd be stuck with them for who knows how long.

Pascal opened a chair himself, sat down, wordlessly took the deck of cards. His long, thin fingers expertly cut and shuffled the deck, fanning the cards and then closing them back into a coherent deck with a snap. He dealt. "Five-card draw," he said to Scott, Tide, and Erik, his voice barely above a whisper. While he hadn't felt terribly social lately, there may come a time when his life depended on the action or inaction of these men. It would be good to know a little about them. You could tell a lot about a man from the way he played cards.

He tried a smile, hoped it didn't look as hollow as it felt. "Pascal Souchon. The pleasure is mine, Messieurs." He checked his hand. It was poor. Cross-table talk might make it easier to bluff and figure out everyone's tell. "So," he said casually, "Where does everyone come from?"

Tide stifled a look of amusement as Pascal took the cards from him, though he couldn't hide the look of dismay as he watched him expertly deal. It looked like there was at least one member of the crew he wouldn't be winning a pile of credits from on this trip.

He lifted one edge of his cards from the crate, glanced quickly at them, before laying them flat again. A mediocre hand at best, probably best not to push this one until he knew a bit more about the other men at the table. He turned to Pascal, straining to hear the quietly spoken man over the humming noise that seemed to be a feature of all ships.

"I'm from a complete crap-hole, out beyond the edge of space," he said, idly scratching his chin while trying to decide how badly he should play. He didn't want to give the impression he knew what he was doing; not until there was real money at stake, anyway. "A first gen mining colony it was, called Merlon's Halt. I never did find out why." Picking up his half empty cup, he leaned back in his chair and gulped down the remaining coffee. "Not a lifestyle I'd recommend, especially when you're not on the company payroll so you can't afford to get out."