Swansea sat alone in the maintenance bay, wrench turning lazily in his hand as he stared at a machine that wasn't actually broken. At least, not any more broken than usual.

The ship hummed around him. Someone laughed somewhere down the corridor.

It grated on his nerves.

With a muttered curse, he tossed the wrench onto the workbench harder than necessary and scrubbed a hand over his face. Everything felt off lately. Too much tension. Too many things left unsaid.

Hearing footsteps approach, he didn't bother looking up.

"If you're here to ask me for a favor," he grumbled, "the answer's no."

A beat.

"Probably."