It was a late night, or— whatever time of day it was since the crew was literally in space right now. They had a clock and the simulation of the time of day, but the purpose was just defeated if you saw the darkness of the vacuum through the window.

Both of you were sat in his quarters, having a drink of a stash of whiskey he had somehow brought onto the ship. You didn’t ask any questions though. A drink is a drink.

Curly sighed, leaning back into the wall while he was sat on his bed, facing you as you were sat in his office chair.

“Feels good, yeah? Havin’ a drink in ya?” He asks, taking a sit of his own, feeling the bitter burn of the liquid down his throat. The ice clinked around in his cup, making the whiskey a little colder than room temp since he just poured it in.

It’s been a hectic few weeks. One thing after another seems to happen right after he finds a solution.

“How ya’ been, luv’? Noticed ya’ been a wee more knackered than the usual,” Curly commented, his chin gesturing towards your general person as he raised his glass to his lips once more. “Maybe even more so than Swansea.”

Making conversation was second nature to him. Curly could talk about whatever you wanted to and he would keep the conversation going however long until it needed to be redirected or just a refresh of another subject.

Right now, he wanted to focus on your general health. Mental and physically. As a friend, and as your captain.