<div align="center"><strong>-=the stowaway – aboard the Gamble, Eavesdown Docks – galley=-</strong></div><br/>Watching the disposal tube suck away the pieces of her jumpsuit, the blue-eyed stranger continued feeding torn strips of the material into it, gleeful at the garment’s destruction. Like shedding an old skin! How delicious it felt to have nothing so disgusting touching her body. Of course, she was only half dressed and was in desperate need to cover her lower half in case she needed to run. She considered the wisdom of choosing and procuring such a garment before she’d destroyed her last one…<em>hmmmm. Well, nothing to be done about it now,</em>she thought as she tucked the last part of the scummy outfit into the tube, her torn and sweaty socks. Happy with her progress and feeling all the cleaner for having destroyed the used clothing, she picked up the packet of food. She briefly thought about tucking into it, but knew she might have to rely upon it later, more desperate for food once the fruit was gone from her belly. She kept it in her hand, her brain racing to gage the likelihood of finding clothing here in the galley or the common area when a soft rumble, more felt through the floor than heard though her ears, vibrated around her.<br/><br/><em>Did someone just close the ramp to the cargo bay? Oh good, we're likely to stay awhile, closing up for the night. No one would be milling around much at this time, off onto the planet or busy with entertainments in their cabins – time for that luscious nap!</em><br/><br/>It occurred to her that there<span class="bbc_u">was</span>someone aboard, but they would be housed in the infirmary or retiring to their bunk, surely. The medical staff would be fretting over their patient, checking on supplies or retiring for themselves so it wasn’t like she was about to be walked in upon. Thinking on the infirmary just below, she remembered the sharp pains in her cranium when those oddly timed headaches would assault her senses, and frowned. If there was something wrong with her head, she ought to be concerned. Not that there was a way to check safely just what it might be that caused the headaches right now.<em>Cuz visiting an Alliance medical facility, yeah… not going to happen.</em><br/><br/>Biting into her lower lip, she moved cautiously through the common area headed for the spiral staircase. The light padding of her bare feet stopped abruptly at the top of the stairs as froze at the voices and responses from below. Nervous again, she backed up and pulled the hem of her shirt down to cover her groin with one hand while tucking her foil pack of food between her teeth. She moved to slip through the next closest hatch. Finding herself surrounded by supply lockers, she grinned around her mouthful of packaged food and took advantage of the moment to snoop and hunt for clothing.<br/><br/>Tools, parts, space faring suits, mag boots, various junk… and finally an end locker nearest to the engine room that looked to have served as someone’s personal stash. A work jumpsuit (<em>ew</em>) hung from a hook, a pair of slacks (<em>too long</em>) and a pair of shorts folded haphazardly atop a shelf. Several wife-beater tops and tiny T-shirts with logos also lay atop… SHOES! Oh, the cutest flat-soled boots with roll-down tops sat there, nearly gleaming with a shiny oiled coat, just large enough to tuck her feet into. Sliding the shorts up over her naked hips, the woman discovered that the previous owner must have been, ah… less backsidey than herself. Tight was the word. She contemplated doing without but decided instead to just leave the top snap undone so the material could cling closely enough about her hips to seem ‘closed’.<em>Hm, so long as I didn’t need to bend over much… hah. Not the most flattering of outfits, but beggars can’t be choosers.</em>She tucked the T-shirt into the shorts to keep from being embarrassed by the too tight fit of everything, assuming no one would notice her clothing if they saw her at all.<br/><br/>While sliding the soft T-shirt along her tummy, she imagined herself draped in cream colored satin and pearls, her hair a cloud of angelic white. Blinking at the vividness of the image, she shook her head in anticipation of a headache… that never came. Disorientation took over. Was she seeing another vision or a memory or what? So strong was the image, she imagined her hand curled around a bed post carved of dark wood, half-smiling toward someone, beckoning them toward her.<em>When… what…</em>Breathing rapidly, she turned back to the locker, desperate to find answers or distraction from her confusing thoughts. The clatter of glass upon the metal side of the locker made her freeze in place, her hand slowly moving the leg of a jumpsuit aside to reveal the nearly empty bottle of hooch resting there. She chuckled, not surprised that a hard-working crewmember might have stored some ‘necessities’ here where no one else might look for them.<em>Smart!</em>She tucked her foil of food next to the bottle, just in case. Uninterested in the box of cigars she found behind the jumpsuit pant legs, the natural blond turned her red-tinted curls to peer into the engine room, closing the locker and hatch behind her.<br/><br/>Studying the economic design of the room’s layout, she circled the sleeping heart of the ship. Tools hung all around on magnetic pegs and in slide-out boxes fitted into the cabinets like drawers, perfect for carrying small bits in an environment that could lose gravity every couple of years. She paused to admire the huge machine that was the center of the room, sliding to one side to take in its girth. The central mechanisms looked rubbed down in places, nearly clean as if recently attended. Smiling, she turned to explore the rest of the room, delighted to see a cot out of the way, just waiting for her. Not bothering to take off her clothing, she sat and tested the thin canvas bedding for stability. Pleased to find it move much like a hammock, she tucked her soft boots under the cot, wrapped the blanket around herself and snuggled in, her legs drawn up to create the curl of a fetal position. Drawing the blanket around her head to block out the ambient light, she nestled as deeply as the arrangement would allow. Too grateful for the miracle of convenience, she rested – really rested. Asleep within minutes, her thoughts eluded her, the dreams eventually escaping her recollection altogether.<br/>