The group had finally left the chaotic scene within the now hanging doors of the<em> Tipsy Turvian Pub</em>after leaving their fare share of rubble behind. Temporarily they had split up to later reconvene at the West Harbor once Zal and Meg had retrieved their own craft. In the meanwhile, the men were staying busy and setting preparations for take off...<br/><br/>"That's the last of the provision crates. We should be set for some time, unless fatass over there gets the munchies." Crash Graves snickered at Captain Dirk's expense. The pilot shoved a crate into the final empty space among the rest of the pantry cargo and breathed a heavy sigh of relief, turning and hopping up onto one to take a momentary break. While he struck up his favorite bad habit of smoking, Nero scribbled down a few notes on his checklist clipboard and nodded approvingly, setting the digital pen and board aside on a shelf.<br/><br/>Dirk frowned and bent his lips into a disappointed frown under the thick bushy mustache, "I'll have you know I'm in prime shape. I perform five hundred squats daily before starting my journey each morning."<br/><br/><br/>"Sad part is I almost believe that." Graves grumbled, snapping his metal lighter box shut with a quick flick of his wrist, producing a loud metallic clink.<br/><br/>They had been joined by the ship engineer Ratchet, the second eldest crew member next to the Captain, a hairy orange bearded Raglick. His race was one of humanoid appearance, with ogre-like strength and build and three iris's within one eyeball. Ratchet was merely half Raglick, so his height and size had been diminished compared to others of his kind, but his physical strength was still impressive and his obsession with mechanics was worth every unit spent to keep him aboard.<br/><br/>"I've never even heard of anything remotely like this creature." He mumbled, looking at a very crude drawing Crash had drawn on a napkin with a marker when they explained the story to him. "You said you're sure she's not an Exile? Because the armor-"<br/><br/>"I'm positive. We don't need to elaborate on Exiles anymore than necessary." Nero cut him off quickly, crossing his arms and leaning back on the supply crates.<br/><br/>"So we're supposed to trust that thing on your hunch?" Crash quipped, hissing blue mist from his nostrils.<br/>"In this matter yes. Believe it or not Graves, there was a time when we trusted you a great deal less than we do now." Nero replied, looking out the cargo bay door at the harbor. Ships were landing and taking off, coming and going, and in great numbers. Nero figured the Legion had something to do with that. Pirates and smugglers were always on edge around the Legion.<br/><br/>"I suppose you got a point there. Fine, but I'm keeping a sharp eye on that dame until we know more about whatever she is." Crash lamented, laying back along a crate and folding his arms under his head, one leg dangling off the box.<br/><br/>For now they would take a brief respite while awaiting Meg and Zal's arrival.