I don't need

[Reeves]

Months went by since that last uncharacteristic altercation. And it seemed as though this issue of ship redistribution had solved itself. At least until Morreti's most recent visit to Ouray. He'd come here every other day of the week to attend to this Prosecutor since nobody else would. It was difficult, exhausting and at times sickening to keep the ship clean and well prepared for combat. It was also the sort of task that felt hollow, nobody would ever fly this ship, not the way she did. It made this chore of looking after the ship quite painful, a sensation Morreti was quick to bury and ignore. Typically, he tried to be quick about his reason for being here, but today did not allow for such a luxury.

In truth, the issue hadn't solved itself. It had just gotten worse, there was now a queue of three fairly accomplished pilots, all of whom had placed requisition orders for a Prosecutor-series fighter, of which two had been entitled to those flight-worthy units still in storage, while one was left ignored. This had caused quite the racket, hence why somebody was now forced to confront Morreti.

Tyra Morris was a well known and well liked pilot among the Xeno movement, she had no affiliations with the Alliance anymore, owed to a semi-recent decision she'd made to become part of Ouray's hangar crew. People knew her well for being the pilot of a dual chain-gun toting osprey, a ship with a notorious history of turning all its pilots deaf. Her decision to give up her wings and instead become the wind beneath them for others had therefore likely saved her hearing. She didn't really want to be doing this, talking to Morreti was strange enough, let alone confronting him. But this wasn't a cause that had the kind of money to operate like this, the Commander's sentiments could not come at the cost of efficiency, and he needed to be firmly reminded of that. "Commander, I hate to be the one doing this. But we're short of ships again. We can't be grounding combat capable pilots if the ships they need are being hoarded by people who won't use them." Firm bold words to get his attention, even if he was currently preoccupied with hosing the ship down and ridding it of muck.

Slowly, he'd set aside what he was doing and then give Morris the courtesy of turning around to face her. He was less than pleased that this was being brought up again, but he was smart enough to have expected this to eventually happen. It was also beyond evident to him that any prolonged defiance of this issue was going to start having consequences. "I made it clear the last time that a ship as significant as this one is, couldn't just be reassigned to people that won't put it to good use." It was a less than satisfactory answer for Morris to be met with.

"Look, either buck up and stop hoarding ships when we're short of wings, or cough up the money we all know that we don't have, so that at least we can restore one of the more broken up birds for the guy to use. I'm not going back just to explain how the Commander doesn't care, so come up with something because I'm not leaving till you do." Firmness, again. An uncompromising level of honesty. There was no intimidating a person like that, nothing to stop them short of a bullet to the brains. And that would have been an ill advised solution to a problem that he was causing.

When Morreti reached for his belt, Morris put a hand to the piece she had holstered. Only to exhale a sigh of relief when it became clear that he was actually pulling out an access card. He didn't have much of a choice, and thus opted to silently toss the card over to his peer. Morris almost didn't catch it when it came at her, fumbling a few times before getting it firmly between the fingers. But that's when it struck her that the card she'd been given didn't go the ship Morreti was attending to. It went to his own ship, a Prosecutor just like this one. Anyone that knew Morreti also knew that he had developed a strong connection to his ship. He had spent countless hours tuning and then re-tuning the machine till it was exactly how he wanted it. And his exploits with it had made the image of a Prosecutor something people related with the Xenos over the Legion. And now he was just giving it to her? Just like that? No, that didn't seem right. "Commander that's-." Morreti interjected at the perfect timing to assert his own words.

"My ship. Yes, you're right. It's my ship, so I'll do whatever I want with it. That solves this problem we seem to keep having, so you can stop barking at me now and go process the requisition order." Quick and curt, he really didn't want to have to talk about this, or get into why he was acting out. Unlike the previous deck worker, Morris had heard the rumors. She knew that despite whatever Morreti said, that this was personal. That it wasn't so simple as the mere intention of not letting an iconic ship be misused. He just couldn't bring himself to let go of the one thing he had left of her - the Spider. Morris opened her mouth as if to speak, to perhaps offer some kind of reassuring comment, but Morreti's eyes very much suggested that she not do so.

Smart enough to take the hint, Morris simply nodded, there was no longer an issue to confront him about. She promptly left, feeling the best thing she could do was respect the fact that he wanted to be left alone.

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On indefinite hiatus because the current state of gameplay sucks - ping me over discord if replies are needed