There's a Thud, and the Visual Feed clicks on. Milo comes into view, the camera drone tracking him as he crosses the room. He grasps for a bottle of water on a worktop, and finishes it all in one go.
"Oh, my head."
He closes his eyes, groans once more, and begins the log.
I honestly don't think I've had that much to drink since I graduated from FNA. I don't think I've enjoyed myself as much either. All I can really recall of last night is Me n' Celia trying to get through The Skyhook's entire stock of Gallentean Brandy.
He groans again
I think we might've succeeded. I found a badly written note I'd left for myself on my worktop. It read something along the Lines of "Food. Celia. Friday." I can only assume I asked her out to Dinner. I can't think what else it could've been.
I have vague recollections of Newt's snoring echoing throughout the Skyhook as Celia helped me out. I tend to lose control of my legs when I drink a lot. I should really try and work out why.
He rubs his head and looks over to a screen on the left.
Looks like my Ares has arrived. It's weird. only a week ago I swore by CreoDron, and flew no other. Two kills later, I'm heading into Roden built ships. Guess it's probably a good idea anyway, I generally prefer playing Gunner over Drone Controller.
He blinks again.
S'pose I'd better get this thing sorted out.
He heads over to a side door, and the sound of running water is heard. The feed winks out