Fierri, after taking her fill of delicious spicy food and whatever jungle juice the party procured, decides her first priority is to return to the Rebel Priscilla and perform repairs on the ship with the spare part she conveniently found in Benaren’s shop.
“Hey girls, I don’t know about you, but I think I’ll sleep better on my own damn ship. I mean sure, I bet Jilhari doesn’t have a thread count under 300 but…” A soft, deep chuckle, almost a cluck from the back of the throat, “I’m not used to comfortable.”
I don’t trust it, and I’m sure as hell not going to start now.
“Thinking about checking out B-fuckhim’s shuttle on my way out. Waste not want not, right?”
Penelope, after eating a low amount of spicy food (because she loves it, but boy are peppers too spicy even for her adventure-seeking mouth), will go off looking for servants, villagers, really any handsome young men she thinks might tell her more about their resident space pirate and buy her some food in exchange for her company.
Whether or not she returns to the ship for sleeping that night depends on whether or not she’s found a more … um … cuddly place to sleep instead. Yeah, let’s go with “cuddly.”
“Ladies, don’t wait up. I’ll be coming back … uh … late.”
Tomorrow morning counts as late tonight, right? Why wouldn’t it?
“Try not to get into more of a mess than I can fix, Rush, yeah?” Fierri is technically the field medic, but you’d be better off trusting her with engine patchwork. “Some fires can be put out. Some burning sensations are for life.”
You can hear the lazy curl of lip, the almost wolfish flash of teeth, in her tone.
Penelope laughs and you can hear her throwing her head back just a smudge, from the other end of the communicator.
“You know me Nyx. I only pick the planes with the highest thrust.” She lets the thhhhh sound drag between her tongue and her teeth, before ending the worst with a clean and crisp sst.
You’re gross, Penelope. Nyx grunts a laugh anyway.
“Yeah, alright, but evidently you’ve also got a landing skill liable to kill us all—”
“— killer landing skill —” Penelope interjects.
“You pull that shit again, you’d better kill us—” Fierri’s tone takes on a bit more teeth. It’s hard to tell whether or not she means it.
“Engineering makes a nice shock absorber for the bridge you know. Since it’s on the lower level.”
“And good luck to you when it comes around to getting off the ground again, bitch.” Cheerfully, though. “Major, are you just waiting for an invitation or…?”
Are we good to go here?
Moments like this? Make Annella regret every life choice she has ever made. Every single choice. Headache the size of the Milky Way, that’s what she’s got and a frustrating puzzle with no good answers.
“I want you both back on the ship in eight hours.” Alone, Rush. Don’t bring back the leftovers.
“Got it. Over and out.”
“Aye aye, Captain.”