Slacking

The feed clicks on. Rather than his apartment, Milo is sitting at a desk in what appears to be a ship's cabin. The cabin follows the usual Gallente design ethic. Organic curves seem to permeate everything, and surfaces have a strange metallic sheen. The colours differ slightly from other Gallente frigate interiors. Reds and oranges, The corporate colours of Roden Shipyards, are prominent here.

Well, it seems I've managed to get myself into a real mess. After a night of heavy drinking to celebrate Heyna's admittance to Ghost Festival, I made the particularly stupid decision of taking the Heroiné out without trying to recover from the previous night. Now I'm stuck in Promised Land with a large fleet hunting me down.

He glances over his shoulder towards the door.

The crew don't seem too bothered by the fact that they're going to be stuck on board this ship for a couple of days while we wait for the system to clear out. I suppose they're used to living on board. I doubt I will cope quite as well.

I can't help but feel I've been slacking recently. Half of my targets are escaping because I make my approaches too obvious, Celia seems to be avoiding me, and now this.

He sighs.

I'm sure it'll turn out I embarrassed myself with Heyna in the Skyhook as well. I didn't get a chance to talk with her before I was cleared for docking. I do hope it wasn't anything stupid.

The feed closes, and the log ends, a Roden Shipyards logo flashing onscreen for a moment before the screen goes black.

Under the Influence

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