soft epilogue
"Got a Graphite container in the cargo bay. Can put it in there. It's plenty tough."
Elpsis' expression was well-warranted, based on the experience she'd had with the symbiote in it’s full form. Loske understood perfectly, and was almost grateful to hear the Firemane’s lieutenant offer up further security for the sample she was lugging along.
“Thanks.” She said, and followed Elpsis’ recommendation. She’d been on..countless ships by now, and typically they followed a standard layout. This class didn’t deviate from the typical blueprint, and she was able to find the cargo bay without much fuss.
Kneeling, she set the sample down with the same tenderness one might a newborn –– not because she cared for it, or found it precious, but mostly out of respectful fear. Even in its security, she was wary of its volatility. Sealing it away was an efficient way to compartmentalize the trepidation in a physical way.
It was a peculiar phenomenon, holding hands with that which had destroyed their lives for a timeline. And now...maybe it had the potential to help? Her conflict was more internal than anything; the need to know and the desire to just pretend it never happened. Wanting to exploit and understand, while being content to just believe it was completely over. The two didn't balance, but they existed together. Pain and relief. Sorrow and contentment. The evil and the redeeming could sit together in her heart, live together, and neither take the edge off the other.
"I have a tracker node on me, if anything hits the fan, once Buddy can get the Renegade off the ground, he'll get us."
Something in Loske’s chest slipped a little tighter –– not anxiety, nor apprehension..something smoother. Warmer. Appreciation, perhaps. A reminder of that place of gentleness and affection and potential like a hurricane eye. Even if they didn’t always know what the storm would bring, they’d somehow be prepared.
That warmth poked out a knowing grin, and she gave a discreet nod with her chin.
"The station's got all the big medical facilities. Time's a wasting. Let's go."
Truer words ne’er spoken, relative to the pressures of the constant construct. The ragamuffin crew seemed ready to go, and Maynard transitioned smoothly to establishing some level of rapport while Loske glanced about the ship.
Is this an...Outrider class freighter? Frank asked, whirling near the pale-skinned bodyguard to emphasize the demand for a validating response to his question.
"That'd be ironic." Loske added with a snickering disbelief.