Shrike loved the Bucket. That ship was practically his baby. Since day one, he’d made sure to just start name calling it like he was some shitty sugar daddy.

Unfortunately for him, the ship wasn’t in the neatest shape for the first time in a while. After having crashed and thrown around, it needed some new parts. It least that’s what Bulldog made clear; making sure to give Shrike the proper piece of paper, clearly circling the correct pieces and fear needed to fix the ship and get it moving.

But Shrike was either deaf, or incredibly ignorant, and chose to get a paint job. A flashy one, at that.

Shrike had gotten the ship into the shop, approaching the person at the counter, flashing the company card which Bulldog assigned him with to pay for the repair. He’d flash a confident grin, before watching you do your work. He’d pat the ship like it was some dog, muttering a;

“ Don’t you worry cariño, papi is gonna get you all fixed up! ” Shrike whispered with determination, lilting his head back, watching you prepare it all.