<div align="center"><strong>~ Sasha Dearing, First Officer - Workout area in the Cargo Bay - en route to Persephone ~</strong></div><br/>Her long lithe body glistening with a soft sheen of perspiration, Sasha lay on her back on the grey workout mat with fingers laced behind her head, her long legs bent at the knee. With each aggressive contraction of her abdominal muscles, her head and shoulders raised sharply off the mat, her breath expelling in harsh exhales in time with her exertions.  Her black boyshorts and workout top left vast expanses of her tightly toned body exposed, allowing for the ease of unrestricted movement.<br/><br/>Finishing up her crunches, Sasha gracefully snapped up to a standing position and moved to the heavy punching bag, pummeling it mercilessly with her fabric-wrapped fists. Her long dark hair was pulled away from her face into a loose twist, which served to accent her feminine features. The soft pink flush of her face and chest enhanced her natural femininity, while her intense scowl of fierce concentration belied any illusions of softness. Dark wisps of stray hairs clung wetly to the side of her face and neck, trapped by the dewy moisture on her skin.<br/><br/><em>Persephone.</em>Funny how the past never seemed content to stay where it bloody well belonged. Almost a year had passed since her family’s brutal massacre, yet every time The Gamble pulled into port on her home planet she was viscerally reminded of her loss. Thud! Thwack-thwack-thwack! Thud!  Her fists mercilessly transmitted the morse code of her fury as she embraced that emotion, welcoming the burning anger which was so much easier to live with than hopeless despair and soul-eating anguish.<br/><br/>Sasha made a habit of working out every day; sure, it kept her strong and agile, kept her in peak fighting form. But, if someone chose to welcome the poison of raging fury into their soul, they had better have some kind of antidote for that venom.  Physical exertion was Sasha’s means of self-medicating. Anger was her upper, physical action her downer. It was a gorram rough ride, but she hadn’t yet found a method that worked better. Well, except for killing bastards who deserved it. And good sex. And she didn’t see either of those options as choices she would make here on The Gamble.<br/><br/>Luckily a little physical exertion went a long way to diffusing her otherwise ticking time-bomb of aggression. It hadn’t always been like this; before her family was savagely ripped to pieces by the Alliance’s Reavers, Sasha hadn’t had any “anger issues” as people were wont to describe her lapses into seething fury. But now...<br/><br/>Bending over at the waist and supporting her hands on her knees, Sasha breathed deep pulls of air through her nose, bringing her breathing and heart rate back down to normal. “Hump me!” she snarled in disgust. The stink left behind from the recent cargo of that herd of dogs renewed its assault on her nostrils, and she scowled heavily. They never would have taken that lousy dog-wrangling job if it had been up to her; but of course, the Captain had the final word on all things within The Gamble, and Griff had seen fit to make the doggone deal. Everyone had different limits for different things, and her and Griff’s didn’t always match up.<br/><br/>With a long sigh, she walked over to the weight bench and retrieved her towel, slinging it around her neck as she took to the stairs briskly, unwrapping her hands from the protective strips of cloth as she headed for her cabin. Once there she tossed her hand wraps and small towel in the laundry basket, kicked off her athletic shoes, and grabbing a clean bath towel and her personal toiletries she headed toward the shower.<br/><br/>As luck would have it, it was available. Timing and luck were always key factors out in the Black; including gaining access to the amenities aboard the ship. If you could call them amenities. Stripping out of her small workout clothes, Sasha turned on the shower and stepped under the cool spray, a small moan of pleasure sighing over her lips at the delicious sensation. Turning off the water, she poured a small puddle of cleanser into her palm, her soap’s heady scent of jasmine a welcome respite from...well, most every other odor on the ship, actually. Lathering up quickly, her hands smoothed over her slippery taut skin and through her silky long hair as she washed, then she turned the water back on momentarily to rinse the suds clean. A swift lather-shave-rinse and she was done; a five minute shower with the water being used for only a third of that time. Although a luxuriously long, hot and steamy shower was one of her most favorite indulgences when such was offered in port, aboard The Gamble she was nothing but frugal with the precious resource.<br/><br/>Tucking her toiletries back in their bag, she twisted the excess water from her hair and swirled her towel around her body, and headed back to her cabin. Blotting and fluffing her hair with the towel to speed its drying, she pulled out her choice of clothing from her closet. The completion of the current cow-for-dogs transaction didn’t even cross her mind. She was already contemplating the potential opportunities available on Persephone and strategizing for their next job.<br/><br/>Persephone was indeed rich with opportunities but also rife with danger. Griff’s intimidating physical presence offered potential clients an obvious and easily readable dialog. Si provided the disconcerting aura of menacing danger so often of great use on their job-fishing expeditions. Sasha...well, Sasha filled in whatever missing ingredient happened to provide the finishing touch to seal the deal. She was exceptionally adept at assessing the tone and expectations of potential employers, and could transform herself into anything from a coquettish flirt to a sadistic torturer, depending on what the situation called for. Coaxingly sweet or aggressively intimidating, these personas were all merely useful tools of the trade, part of her extensive repertoire that benefitted all on board when she successfully helped wrangle lucrative jobs for the crew.<br/><br/>Today - as she often did - she dressed all in black, the most versatile of colors. Image was everything in first impressions with strangers, and the clothing a person chose to wear spoke volumes. The<em>way</em>you wore your clothes spoke even more loudly. Donning black bikini panties, she sat on the edge of her bed while she pulled on her thigh-topping latex leggings and zippered ankle boots. Standing up topless, she prowled over to her vanity drawer and pulled it open, her breasts swaying gently as she walked. Slicking her hair back into a severe high ponytail, she applied her makeup in dark tones; black kohl set off the blue of her eyes and deep red drew attention irresistibly to her full lips. Lastly, she wrapped a long swath of lacy dress around her, belting it around her waist with a decorative chain embellished with pearls placed intermittently along its length. The front of her dress (http://turboblanco.files.wordpress.com/2009/10/olivia-wilde-marie-claire-see-through-photoshoot-91.jpg?w=400&h=289) could be gathered over her breasts to provide a somewhat modest covering, or the fabric could be spread out more evenly, allowing for her creamy skin and pink nipples to play hide and seek within the dark lace. Again, allowing for persona options was always helpful. To begin with, she would wear the dress in its more modest incarnation, read the situation when they arrived at the job meet, and make adjustments as necessary. She tucked knives into sewn-in sheaths inside each boot, in between her skin and leggings on the outside of each thigh, and nestled a final small but deadly dagger sheathed diagonally into the back waistband of her panties. She topped her outfit with a fitted leather jacket, slipped a pocket pistol into one of the jacket’s inside pockets, and with a few dabs of aromatic essential oil Sasha was ready, her game face on.<br/>