The pen-light clicked off, announcing the end of Gus’ check up. Blair returned the device to its appropriate slot on her person, suggesting that the woman wouldn’t be fumbling in search of supplies should a critical situation presented itself. Cool, calm and collected Castor. She rose to her feet as Gus did so, and tucked the injection gun into her pouch as well. Everything had its place. “Castor.” She took the Doctor’s hand, giving it a shake that suggested both confidence and respect with their meeting. As aloof as she could be at times, Castor knew the value of making good first impressions. “Blair Castor.  Pleasure. Thanks for not pukin’ on my boots.” Always a hazard of the job.<br/><br/>Blair secured the last two pods, resetting them as she had done to the previous Cyro-cells, and allowed herself a mental check on a list she had stored inside her head. Be present for those waking? Check. Assist those struggling with waking? Check. Making sure everything is prepped for the next time? Yep, that’ll be another check. She preferred to keep things running smoothly, to keep occupied. “The green stuff isn’t so bad; the trick is not looking at it, and eating it as fast as you can without choking. Though, if I were you, I wouldn’t be doing any research on what actually makes up the stuff, if I were you. Sometimes ignorance is bliss.” But, this was the Marines. Fresh foods were a luxury for the civilians, and Blair grew up eating the nutrients created by chemicals, a little water and the texture of a wet shit. She was used to the stuff. It was what it was. "Try to eat some; and make sure you get some electrolytes as well, or the next time you'll be getting a bigger needle."