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.
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?
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