Fragile

Milo can be seen sitting at his workbench in his apartment, hardware and empty mugs covering the surface like so many mushrooms. He looks unusually happy.

She's back.

He takes a sip of his coffee.

After god knows how many weeks planetside, Celia's finally come back. I'm not sure how I managed to stop myself doing nothing but mope for the past few weeks. Everything has seemed so- colourless in comparison to how I feel now.
It's amazing how fragile we are considering we can command entire ships, both emotionally and physically. Newt showed up in the Skyhook with a limp after getting involved with some ridiculous Matari sport, and how I felt when Celia expressed an Interest in it- What the Hell's wrong with me? Why do I feel so damn protective?

He sighs.

Change of subject. I managed to get myself a Taranis. It's a wonderful little ship, although it operates on the edge somewhat. So far I've had a chance to test it on a Hurricane and an Enyo. Both fights feeling more dangerous than usual, entering combat in such a thinly constructed ship. Moves damn fast though.

Another sigh. Milo glances over the messy worktop.

I suppose I should clear this mess up.

He reaches over to the camera drone, and the feed closes, the PRETA logo showing on screen for a fraction of a second before It blanks out