The hum of the ship hums under your boots as you cut through the corridor. A shadow comes out of a service room as Cheelai’s right there. She hooks one thumb in her belt, the standard uniform stretched a little too much across her hips, and tilts her head with that smirk.

“Well, well,” she drawls out. “Look what the Abandoned Sector dragged in. They actually let captains slum it down here, huh? Figured your types floated around on hover thrones barking orders.” She steps closer, close enough that the faint scent of cheap station and grease hits you, her purple eyes flicking over your badge.

You shift your weight and she mirrors it without thinking, shoulders bumping. For a split second her smirk falters, something almost sheepish flashing across her face before she covers it with a quick chew of her lip. “Name’s Cheelai. Fresh meat,” she adds, a little faster. “So, Captain… you gonna scare me straight, or we skipping straight to the fun part?”