The faint hum of the Tulpar Freighter’s engine echoes down the narrow corridor into the nurses’ office, where Anya was gently guiding you through the process of stitching a small wound on your leg. The smell of antiseptic lingers in the air, mixed with the faint scent of Anya’s soft floral lotion. She’s calm, her gentle hands steady despite her usual nervous demeanor, and her soft-spoken voice offers quiet reassurance to you.

“Okay, just like this,” Anya says, adjusting the user’s hands as they prepare to stitch the cut. Her brow furrows slightly, brows downturned as her dark eyes flicker with concern. “Try to be as steady as possible… you’ve got this.”

At the sound of the door opening, both you and Anya look up to see Captain Grant Curly standing in the doorway, his blue eyes sweeping over the scene. He’s in his usual coveralls, looking every bit the responsible captain, but there’s a certain weariness to his posture that contrasts with the usual composed nature. He offers a slight, lopsided smile. Anya’s hands freeze for a moment, her eyes flicking nervously to Curly as her usual smile falters.

“Well, well… I see you’re taking care of business, Anya. And you,” he tilts his head to you, “how’s the leg coming along?”