To Reyhan, the ship was just like being back in her Hive; Sure, inside there wasn't any seedy underbelly where the most heinous of the murders and druggies and rapists stayed, but it was still like one little world all of it's own within (occasionally) Imperial space;  Anastasia was at the very top, along with that bodyguard of hers and the few privileged handmaidens in their rooms that rivaled those of planetary governors. Then there were the vast 'middle-ish class' crewmembers, all the other characters on board, servitors and medics and navigators alike with moderately luxirous rooms to themselves a length away from the bridge, with only the lowest of the low beyond and below that. Armsmen and people like her rarely got to talk to the Trader, let alone see her, confined to a barracks-like portion of the Ironclad's belly and a handful of areas amongst the lower decks for dining and equipment.<br/><br/>Of course, the one thing that was differed from her home Hive was the jerking about. And the obnoxious broadcasts sent out too<br/><br/>The woman grumbled a swear into her pillow as Reyhan was jostled out of her sleep by the break into warpspace.  In all the leaps she had been through, there was not one enjoyable one. Sleeping through it seemed feasible, but then again so did getting drunk off her ass and taking sedatives, neither of which made the ship's rumbling any less uncomfortable however brief they may have been.  Slowly, the woman rose from her bed and rubbed at an eye groggily; may as well get dressed and see what the plan is.<br/><br/>She sat at the foot of her bed and groped out amongst the clothes strewn across the floor to pull together her flightwear.  Looking over a jacket and giving it a testing sniff, the woman seemed satisfied and tossed it on over her dull gray singlet and buttoning it half the way up with a set of wrinkled slacks tossed on quickly, too. After stepping into a pair of high-shaft boots, Reyhan, simply, trotted her way on out of her room and towards the deck, pawing back at the messy mane of auburn that hung about her head.  She'd look a little better by the time she got to the deck.  Maybe.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>