<div class="floatleft">(https://i.imgur.com/Xxfp4aR.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Ferron Kell<br/><strong>Location:</strong>GR-75 "Respite"<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong><br/><strong>Notes:</strong><br/><strong>Wounds:</strong>0/12<strong>Strain:</strong>0/12<strong>Status:</strong>Normal<br/><hr/><br/>Ferron was in his cabin, much like he had been for most of this flight and the one before that. He very much preferred to bury himself in his datapad and try to forget that he was a man with no identity travelling from one armpit of the galaxy to another in a rusty tub full of inhumans. Still worth it, of course -<em>no one</em>gets to just walk over the Imperial Navy as they please, psycho mystic with background as high as the sky or not - but also something to pay forward at the earliest opportunity.<br/><br/>Which also warranted a question of what to do next. His share of the money they got from selling their Lambda shuttle had pretty much run out. Unsurprising, given how much they had been gouged - she was worth at least five times as much in truth, probably more. Circumstances. Still, that meant he'd need to look for work upon arrival to Toth. He'd heard slicers were much sought after in criminal circles, which, while not his actual line of work, was something he could qualify for. On the other hand, working for the Hutt Cartel or any lesser organisations of such kind sounded<em>exceedingly </em>distasteful. Well, he'd have to see what his options would be.