Yes. Fly. In different ways. The most obvious meaning was a ship of some kind. Fighters in particular. But mostly as a means of escape. She was no combat pilot but sometimes she'd needed to exfil in a hurry. Then there was the more unorthodox meaning. Like getting shot out of a tube in a pressure suit with only impulse jets to guide you through a stellar battlefield to gain entry to an enemy command ship. Dangerous work only grays could handle. The trauma from the firing mechanism would have pulverized any normie.<br/><br/>She looked him up and down as he mentioned his size. He was big for a gray and that was saying something. She was surprised to hear he'd been given any infiltration assignments. Not only was he big, he was pretty too. "You ever miss it?" she asked, leaning back in her chair. The light out the kitchen window was brightening, the artificial time of day simulation signalling that it was morning. This was one of the few non-corporate levels that simulated sunlight at all. The lower levels were in a state of perpetual night.<br/><br/>"I do. I miss the simplicity sometimes. Raised to fight. To take orders. Now I'm the only one that gives me orders... unless I'm in bed with Cleo. She's little but the girl's mean in the sack." She smiled.<br/><br/>Beretta looked up to meet his eyes. "So, when you're not fulfilling the needs of your messed up freak of an employer, do you ever have any fun? Ever tried it with a girl who can stand up to you?"