Credit Slips and Smog Clouds

[Orin]

A pair of boots against steel skittered across the Alcatraz hangar flooring as a redhead strolled over to the fuelling station. She pursed her lips, inspecting the area with her hands on hands on her hips.

Alright, looks simple enough She murmured to herself, taking note of the devices. Okay, nozzle there pump is there mhmm oh! No thats not it

Draya stumbled backwards as she heaved a tube out of its holster, tripping backwards to her behind. She winced mildly, frowning at a sore tailbone as she resituated the hose on her lap. With little effort she pushed herself back to her feet, pivoting her head to find the input valve on the transport. She shook her bangs out of her eyes and trudged ahead, determined.

Heeere we go. The girl took the head of the tube between her hands and tugged it towards the valve.

No more than a meter from her destination her grasp suddenly was empty, the hose stopping short and dropping the floor. Draya groaned and whipped her gaze back to the station she had retrieved it from.

What the hell! She grumbled and stormed back to the pumps.

Need some help there, little lady? A male voice spoke up over the drone of the hangar; a mechanic, she decided.

No, no, no. Draya replied in irritation, stopping in front the pump and leaning over to inspect the problem.

After a moment, she nodded in decision, yanking the start of the hose out of its base with a final jerk. Another few meters of slack gave and she smirked in satisfaction, gliding cheerfully over to the valve again. A lift, aim, and thrust of the nozzle and everything was in place. Draya ran back to the pump and flipped the on switch, receiving the gentle white noise of flowing liquid in return. She meandered over to the side of the transport and leaned against the cool plating, a not so subtle look of victory across her face as the mechanic made his way over.

Aha, looks like youve got things in order, Miss? The mechanic extended an arm a few feet away from her head against the transport, giving her a quick smile.

Draya. She finished, responding with a smug smile of her own. Its a wonder they pay you guys to do this stuff; easy much? She gave him a look up and down, realizing that he was a bit handsomer then your average Rogue; kind of a gruff but nerdy but slick thing, she mused.

He laughed, sending her a playful look of scepticism. It aint all fun in games, Draya. Youve got pressures gauges to keep in check throughout the day, running piping and mounting storage units; not to mention refuelling the tanks themselves and everything else that that entails. He took a breath, giving her a knowing smirk. Then youve got to make sure the locking clips for valve access arent rusting over or loose. Those will give you proble-

Come again? The girl cut him off with a slightly worried tone. Locking what's?

Uh, locking clips. You know, snap the hose in, slip the built-on c-ring around the nozzle and give it a few spins. The pressure of that fuel output is some pretty serious stuff; get one of those tubes torn off their valve and someone might get a black eye, not to mention the lovely mess to clean up

Uh oh, Draya lamented inwardly, turning her head warily in a 180 towards the fuel input. On cue, a hiss of released pressure sliced through the air and a spurts of moisture fell against their faces. The mechanic groaned something illegible and bounded towards the pump; Draya stood in her place, dumbfounded and embarrassed. The hose whipped around like a bucking bronco, smashing into buckets and tool cabinets with admirable force as it ejected a raging plume of h-fuel. With a squeak and whine of the emergency crank valve, the unruly serpent shuddered to a halt.

A slosh of wetness splashed against the girls scalp, and she shut her eyes in humiliation. The mechanic threw her a tired and equally incredulous look, shaking his head and tweaking a few more settings on the pump.

Draya cracked an eye open, her lips forming a sheepish smile in response to his accusing stare. Hope weve got enough time for a shower break