Slowly turning his combination of flesh and glass gaze to the body guard, his head tilted ever so slightly,<i>"Welcome? I was born here..."</i>He spoke, nodding momentary respects to the Mistress before turning, his ork sized form moving with a loud, yet smooth ease to the door.<i>"When you break something," </i>He called out,<i>"Contact me by vox. I am always available." </i>Stopping a moment to consider something, then revoicing his statement with but one word. "<i>Always."</i>The skull servo afforded everyone present one last once over, while it's master, Zevion gave Abida a final glare, computing what his Mistress' interest in her was, that he should grand a private tour...<br/><br/><i><span style="text-decoration: underline">"Even from here, the Cores speak in harmony of readyness to me." </span></i>He spoke over a private vox in the captain's coat. Indeed, the Gellar fields were alive, hugging to the ship's hull, engines roaring like the mighty beasts of burden they were. Her ship was awake, alive, and only he could hear it, speak to and with it... That bare palm, with the Electoo visible, was pressed against a communion port in the wall not far from the bridge. he could have used the port there, but prefered his privacy, when working such sacred rites. The rites of ignition, and the arts of maintenance were his and his alone to know and master...<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>