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The Spaniard had been trying to get a lava lamp to work ever since he unpacked it from his luggage, the IRV Howard's electrical system not being the most customed to such trivialities on the crewmember's quarters. The room smelled faintly of strawberry, due to Guijarro's hairgel and whatnot: He was really touchy when it came to his hair, more often than not taking quite a long time to get it in the perfect position. Apart from all of that, the room wasn't decorated at all apart from the glow of the newly working lamp, the jazz onboard making Óscar perk his ears up, surprised at the AI's music choice although the music that came from the headphones around his neck was more than enough to make him forget about the travel they were going to perform. A job is a job, sure...but the newly-made guard wasn't really experienced in the watery depths of planet Earth. Not at all.

Óscar began to take out his other clothes, which basically consisted of: 3 black hoodies, a black shirt with what appeared to be the Metallica logo on it, some other more colourful shirts that appeared to be ever-so-slightly tighter than the Metallica one, a variety of jeans and sweatpants and the clothes he was wearing at that moment. He wasn't one for formal wearing, he absolutely hated the idea of having to dress nicely...well, mostly because the tuxedos and shirts were way less comfortable than his casual attire. After the unpacking had been done, the Spaniard looked around with a comfortable glance -- It sure as hell wasn’t his own apartment, but it had a cozy feeling to it: The metallic walls and doors kept the room silent most of the time, the lighting from the lava lamp was relaxing and the room itself wasn’t too spacious nor too tight.


With headphones on his neck, the man walked out of the room and slowly made his way to the cafeteria, guided by the signs on the walls. Was the music coming straight from the messhall? It sounded like it, but why would that kind of music come out from there? As soon as he entered, those questions were answered. Óscar sure as hell couldn’t resist letting out a chuckle at the decoration of the room, slowly advancing towards one of the party hats on the table and examining it while keeping his other hand inside his jeans, shuffling his torso to keep the hoodie in good shape. The cleanliness of the place was something to raise an eyebrow at, but, it was obvious that the room in which they’d be eating for most of the expedition was going to be sparkling clean. As he turned around, still with the party-hat in hand, he noticed the Greek Biologist glancing around with an unamused look on his face, to which the ex-bounty hunter snickered with a pat of his own stomach.



He asked in an attempt to make conversation with whom appeared to be the only man in the room right now. Demetrios didn’t have the look of a boring person, or at least not the kind of guy to just have one topic to converse about, just like 90% of the people he had already met in the IRV Howard up until now. Óscar took a seat near one of the tables, lowering the volume on his headphones and leaning on the table itself, glancing back around the room while speaking up: A raspy, slightly deep voice was now asking the Biologist.



His tone wasn’t either too rough nor sweet, hushing in a neutral kind of voice to ask the Greek man about the tasks that they both had to do around the IRV. The Spaniard had experience in the security jobs, that’s for sure, but he wasn’t bad on cultural topics and whatnot: His travels and happenings in life had really opened him up to many other kinds of people and countries, having an extensive knowledge about many country-specific habits and whatnot, he'd surely find something to make Demetrios feel slightly more comfortable around him...all in all, they were going to work together in the ship.

Waking up the announcement, Scott looked around his room groggily. The young medic was in his underwear when the voice came through to call to all crewmembers. His room was slightly unpacked, he didn't take too much time to sort the mess that was his gear but he had some clothes unpacked. Unfortunately for the crew, it was not any semi-formal attire, but his paramedic uniform that he had been issued when he boarded the vessel. Quickly snapping himself out of his half-asleep mindset, Scott sprang into action and got up and started to dress. In no time he found himself dressed, now all that was left was his hygiene and grooming needs. Those were quickly rectified when he went to his bathroom, his teeth and breath felt like something artificial after he was done.

Quietly stalking the halls of the ship, Scott made his way to the cafeteria where he soon found out it was decorated 'uniquely' some could say. He saw two people in the room, a Spaniard and what appeared to be the head honcho. Scott made his way far away from the two and sat down on the other side of the table where it was rather empty. Looking at the decorations, Scott eyes kind of fluttered with disinterest. He then looked back up to the two, not saying a word he just looked at the two and looked back down to the plate that was in front of him. Standard cutlery and ceramic plate, his eyes looked upwards to the dull ceiling before making a return to his wristwatch.

Time moved slowly as he just stared at the timepiece, sad but it was as life foretold. Time on a ship - especially docked was never as exciting as time on land or a base would be. It's what he signed up for, after all, the job wasen't going to be glamorous but the sooner it ended the better. Maybe it was the thought of a good paycheque or the thought of him starting up his own practice. It was sure as hell better than the navy. Scott knew better than anyone else the horrors that awaited a medic on the battlefields that partitioned the pockets of hell that blessed planet earth.

It's weird being on a again ship.

You would only know the jarring experience of walking city streets at night without hearing if you were one of two people- born deaf, or recently exited a concert. The transition for Fritzi- or Frankie- wasn't as extreme, but it was as if she had walked out of her room into an elevator with the music that the ship's onboard AI had a peculiar liking for. Freshly showered and her hair done up in the standard ponytail, bedecked in a Metallica t-shirt and jeans, she licked her brushed teeth and sighed. She let the corners of her mouth droop into a frown as she reluctantly closed her door on Sleep's self-titled album and let the World War II-era jazz wash over her.

She made it to the lunch-room getting by on social interaction that consisted solely of nods and the kind of smile you give to people you have no strong feelings towards on any end of the like-dislike spectrum. Her fingers lingered on the door to the ship's mess hall for a few moments, she could say she was asleep or making last-minute important adjustments to the CARAPACE suits, or helping some of the engineers turn some wrenches for something or other. Finally, letting go her second sigh of the day, she wrestled with her frown to turn it at least somewhat upside-down and stepped through the door. If anything, she'd get a good idea of the people she'd have to keep her true intentions from.

It turned out she didn't have to fight too hard for the small smile as she took in the party décor that was very much the epitome of half-assed. It almost reminded her of her Army days, half-expecting to see a tired supply clerk somewhere and a few eleven-bravos who'd been drinking for an hour but only entered the room five minutes ago. She looked to her right and all sense of nostalgia was blown away from her like a shockwave from a roadside IED at the sight of the gaudy shirt standing a few meters away from her. She couldn't say it wasn't a bit endearing. The man inside of it wasn't too bad, she guessed, a smile a few steps above hers pinned on his face. Standing next to him was someone she might just grow a liking for, clad in a very similar Metallica shirt and jeans not dissimilar from her own. Tucked away in the corner like the umbra of a shadow was a lone man glowering almost comedically next to the party hats and streamers around him and the table he sat at.

“Well, shit.” She muttered to herself, “I guess it won't be too boring after all.”

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