An unusually firm hand laid what felt like a bear's grip on Ensign Mallory's shoulder, squeezing the dislocated joint.

"Hey Christian. Stop acting like you're going to fucking case the joint and come help me with something."

Turning around, he would notice his superior officer was carrying an armful of protein and granola bars, Snickers, Babe Ruths, 3 Musketeers, and (most appropriately of all) Milky Ways. Behind her was a service cart loaded up with box after box of the same, hundreds if not thousands of energy-intensive candy bars packed with carbs and sugars. She chewed on a partially opened Snickers, handling it like one of her cigars. Presumably she wanted him to push the cart.

"What, are you deaf Mallory? I said now, ya big baby."

Kal said it sternly, meaning Mallory didn't have much of a choice in the matter. You see, the boss lady was more than aware of the illicit business he conducted at port and aboard the ship. It was hard to fool the eyes and ears of a super-soldier, but thankfully for the Ensign, anything that may have constituted a potential breach of protocol aboard the ship didn't seem to bother her if it didn't involve a smoking gun barrel or a bare-knuckles fist-fight. She let him do his business unmolested whether he realized it or not, and even kept a secret from the others, but such patience had its limits...