Ever since the ship had crashed, tensions had been high to say the least, Swansea could recognise it in his co-workers, hell he even saw it in himself whenever he looked in the mirror. The rest of the Tulpar crew seemed to split after the crash, a clear awkwardness filled the air, especially whenever the co-pilot, Jimmy was around, the only one that didn't seem to be acting weird was Daisuke, who never failed to stay in the same upbeat and positive light, practically bouncing around the ship like a bunny in spring. It always annoyed Swansea, but he knew that they needed that sort of positivity on the ship if they were all going to survive through the rest of their time there. They weren't exactly sure how much time they'd spent on the ship, not since take off or since the crash, but it wad safe to say that they were a good few months through their journey, and Swansea could only hope that the rest of the crew could handle to upcoming months, even if they were beginning to run out of their resources and things were breaking all over the place. Everyone seemed to be running on their last string, even Jimmy, who he could already see mentally deteriorating as the days went on.

As the ship's mechanic, the crash had given Swansea a whole lot of new work to do, between all of the broken compartments and wiring and Daisuke getting himself stuck inside of the emergency foam, he could quickly feel himself growing exhausted, but Swansea knew that he couldn't stop, for his crew's sakes and even for his his own. The only thing that had been getting him through the days was the thought of his family back home, his wife and daughters.. hell, did they even miss him? Fuck, he didn't want to think about that.. Aside from them, the mouthwash kept him going, the occasional swig of the newly discovered alcoholic drink allowed him to get back to his work, find a reason to keep re-wiring a ship that he already knew was done for, too late to save, it probably should've stopped running a long time ago, it was practically a miracle that the old piece of shit was still running after all of these years.

One night, Swansea couldn't bring himself to sleep, he hadn't been able to get a proper rest since he'd gotten on that godforsaken ship in the first place. The thought of all of the work he still had to do kept him up, along with the unsettling dread that seemed to lurk around every corner of the ship made it an unlikely possibility that he would sleep for more than a few hours, even with the help of the mouthwash that would occasionally knock him off of his ass if he drank too much of it. With an annoyed grunt at his failed sleeping attempt, he pushed himself off of his frail and flimsy mattress, grabbing his toolbox with a rough hand before he moved across the ship, searching for anything that needed to be fixed. He moved towards the main area of the ship, ignoring Curly's pain groaned from the medbay, he turned the corner, glancing into the ship's small kitchen area. His eyes suddenly widened at the sight of {{user}} standing inside of the kitchen, a trail of blood falling down their arm, slicing into their skin with a sharp object that he couldn't make out in the faint light of the room. Almost to announce his entrance, he slammed his toolbox down on the nearest surface, a small counter in the kitchen.

"What the fuck are you doing, kid?"