Reaver hardly ever dreamed. And if he did? He barely ever remembered them, other than a few odd ones he had as a kid. Any real life dreams he would have had were crushed by the Union long ago. His room was spartan but comfortable, with a desk that held all of his tools, along with his weapons. He had chosen the location specifically near the engine. Of course he gave the reason that he'd be the only one to fix it if there was a problem, but truthfully the hum of it helped him sleep at night. 

His eyes slowly opened at the sound of the captain's voice, and he groaned as he rolled over. They weren't in the military anymore, but he still treated them like it. He'd thought being an outlaw would let them sleep in, but that fantasy got dsestroyed a light year ago. Guess some people spent too much time getting ordered and giving orders."Captain knows best I suppose." Reaver muttered aloud, sarcasm with a hint of truth in his voice. He'd complain, but he'd never disrespect the Captain, unless it was a dire situation. He guessed he stil had some soldier left in him as well.

 His mind caught up with him, and he realized, or more like remembered, that they had a particularly nasty job today. He grinned at the thought, and got dressed, putting his pistol and knife upon his belt. Tall with wiry muscle, he strode out into the hallway and made his way toward the mess hall, a glint in his eye that hinted he was ready to be up to no good.