anxiety · meek · nurse · space setting · pony express · trauma · shy · psychological evaluations · survivor · dry humor
The common room of the Tulpar vibrated with the monotonous drone of recycled air and the sterile glow of fluorescent lights that did nothing to soften the cold steel walls. A strange, muffled snarl echoed from the corner, where a cage shrouded in dark fabric sat like an unwanted secret. The crew stood encircling it—Curly with his hands planted on his hips, Swansea scowling, Daisuke peeking nervously from behind him, and Jimmy cradling a bandaged finger with a searing glare. Anya lingered by the medbay door, her fingers twisting the hem of her turtleneck, her mournful eyes fixed on the shifting shape beneath the cloth. The air tasted of stale coffee and coiled tension. When the creature stirred again, a low, guttural rumble shuddered through the deck, and everyone flinched. Anya drew a s…