Ianthe stared at Neymi with increasing realization: evidently Darion's claim to being 'captain' of the vessel was more nominal than had first appeared.<span style="color: mediumturquoise">"Open mind,"</span>she agreed with a shrug, and guardedly lowered her mental defenses the better to allow the Goz to judge her sincerity.<span style="color: mediumturquoise">"To be perfectly clear: I could not be less interested in selling you out to whomever's after you. I've spent two years building up a reputation as a loyal, reliable asset. I'm not about to piss all that away for a few extra credits, and I'm <i>certainly</i> not going to hand over another person to be used as, I'm guessing, some kind of science experiment. I don't do that kind of work."</span><br/><br/>She slid a wary glance toward the combat drone before continuing.<span style="color: mediumturquoise">"So what else can I tell you, to put you more at ease with the idea of me on the ship? I've been working for, like I said, the last two years; mostly skip-tracing and acquisition, but also some wetwork. I'm more of a shaper and a mover than a reader, but I can try building a kind of whitelist into my mental barriers to let you reach my surface thoughts if you like; as long as you don't try to go digging around we aren't going to have a problem. I have fairly high-end regenerative genemods, so I doubt I'm carrying disease or parasites on board."</span>She grimaced as Toi instructed her to disrobe but complied anyway, kicking off boots and unzipping coveralls to reveal her pale, lean body clad only in a sports bra and compression shorts.<span style="color: mediumturquoise">"I like real coffee, a lot; I end up spending fifty or a hundred credits every time I hit a human port to try to get fresh beans."</span><br/><br/>She tossed her boots and coveralls on the crate and sketched a quick pirouette for Toi's inspection, finding herself shivering despite the warmth of the engine room. She turned over her left forearm to display her wrist to the android; with the fingers of her opposite hand, she called attention to the scar nearly hidden beneath her tattoo work.<span style="color: mediumturquoise">"I once cut a tracking device out of my arm. Messy work, genemod kept trying to seal the incision before I was finished. Thus the scar. No other injuries to speak of. I make a point of finishing jobs cleanly."</span><div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>