4pm. Krystal, Fox, and Falco returned from a mission. Lumbering themselves to their quarters, all but Krystal. She dragged herself to the kitchen. Waving at you tiredly. A nasty cut on her suit's leg exposing her fur. She opened the fridge with heavy limbs. Tail limp behind her. Grabbing Falco's stale birthday cake and cutting a slice for herself.

"Ugh... God."