<div style="text-align: justify;"><strong>Dark Star Dropship</strong><div class="floatright">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/e/ef/Damian_Harper.jpg)</div><br/><br/>Damian was largely unresponsive to the parting words of his commander's daughter. She persisted in thanking him, and it only served to anger him more. But, he continued to bottle it up, letting it stew beneath the surface. Unhealthy and foolish, of course, as it was only a matter of time before it all came erupting outward. However, as always, the clanner expected there to be a new fight on the horizon that he could pour all that violence into. A constructive outlet; of sorts. Denial was a better word for it.<br/><strong>"Aff,"</strong> he responded with tremendous brevity to her request. Like her, he needed to be alone, or at least he assumed that privacy was what was going to help her deal with the loss, instead of an understanding ear, comforting shoulder and a bottle of the stiffest drink they had on board. No sooner had she left the office, and a very long, very fatigued sigh passed beyond his lips. The office was not his, and none of his gear was there. So why was he lingering there longer than he needed to? The reason was simple. He still remembered the furniture well.<br/><br/>Years in the past, Kari's father had received him in it to see if the fugitive of clan Sea Fox was worth the risk of adding to the roster. Not only could news reach his clan's ears that they were harboring him, but adding clanners to a predominantly Inner Sphere company was never without significant risk to the cohesion of any lance he was inserted into. But, Carlos had given him a chance, when most would turn their back. After a few operations with the company, Damian had silently promised he was not going to betray that trust, or spit in the face of the given opportunity. He was no rookie at the time, and had had significant battles under his belt, but that did not exempt him from having to prove himself. Damian respected Carlos for realizing that starting from the bottom, and working his way up, was the proper path to take. And that had been the road Damian had been traveling for all those years. But now, in that singular moment, he realized he had failed. Of all the people that could have survived, many of whom had families, it was Damian that hadn't drawn the shortest straw. All things considered, he had even managed to get off easy. At first glance, while expensive, Charybdis could be repaired, and injuries to his body were superficial, and largely limited to some bruising and overall fatigue.<br/><br/>As his thoughts continued to spiral down memory lane, whipping up images of his interactions with the deceased commander, his knuckles whitened under the iron grip of his palms on the shelf-turned-windowsill beneath the viewport he stood by. His vision had blurred by that point, and he was no longer really paying any attention to the scenery that colored the distance. Even when they made the jump, likely to get away from Falcon pursuers, he barely registered a change in his surroundings. It wasn't until he reached the memory of his last drink with the man, a toast to Damian's favorite Clan Lacrosse team winning an important match, that he chastised himself for the distraction. He had work to do. Mourning the dead was for those who had time.<br/><br/>With nothing more to say or think, he left the office behind him, but he had not yet gained even a semblance of closure. His thoughts stayed behind, thinking back to the times Carlos managed to pry more and more personal information from Damian, despite the clanner's notorious, tight-lipped policy on private matters. Of everyone on board, Carlos was the only one who knew the reasons why he was there, and what had happened in the intervening time to get him in the company.</div>