Best friends, huh? He supposed that was a good sign. There were plenty of laughs and jests in the air, and if this was any indication to how their actual expedition was going to go - then shit - things would no doubt be interesting to say the least. The announcement ceased and everyone shuffled about accordingly. Hovering over the quick-fingered techie, he waited patiently, but there was little to prepare him for her particular reaction. ||Awww! I wanted to play with it more||. Despite himself, Nixon cracked a grin - a breathy chuckle escaping past his chapped lips. "Maybe later, Cee." He said, amusement finding it's way into his voice. It was as if his mask were legos, and CC was an excitable little kid. Respirator in hand, he gave the girl a funny look as her tongue wiggled at him in mock annoyance. Exchange complete, he casually bumped shoulders with her in passing, eyes rolling and head shaking, only to be flagged down seconds after.
Halting in his extended stride, Nixon would scan their passing crewmates. Tori popping some more skittles, Tactician fiddling with some personal piece of tech, and so on and so forth. Some sort of contentment settled in the man's chest, followed promptly by a feeling of exhilaration. The reality of their expedition had only just struck him, and a sweeping gaze at the ship elicited a satisfied hum from his mouth.
When he'd finally swiveled back to the petite and fiery haired gal to his left, Nixon was met with an open hand containing cleaning supplies. Another semi-amused expression would flitter briefly across his face as the man gave her an up-nod. "Yeah, thanks. Of course." There'd be a time for cleaning once they were on board, for now he pocketed the little bottle and cloth with a grateful, if not stifled smile and slung the mask about his neck again, akin to her swinging headphones.
Metallic hands buried themselves into the depths of grey cargo pants and a duffle bag hung lightly from Nixon's shoulder. Star-Fire certainly had some character and while he was sure some of the crew could stand to stare at the pretty hunk of SpaceShip for a few more hours, he concurred with the Medic's statement. What was the hold-up? Could they hop on board? He wanted to poke around the ship and get settled in just about as much as the next person. Assuming their briefing was done and over with, as soon as he got the cue they were all set, (ie. room assignments or what-have-you) Nixon would take a few strides forward towards the entrance only bothering to toss a dismissive wave of hand over his shoulder.
Farewell, Earth.
But more important than his lackluster goodbye to home, was the announcement he had to make before anyone else could beat him to it.
"...Shotgun!"
All aboard.
Halting in his extended stride, Nixon would scan their passing crewmates. Tori popping some more skittles, Tactician fiddling with some personal piece of tech, and so on and so forth. Some sort of contentment settled in the man's chest, followed promptly by a feeling of exhilaration. The reality of their expedition had only just struck him, and a sweeping gaze at the ship elicited a satisfied hum from his mouth.
When he'd finally swiveled back to the petite and fiery haired gal to his left, Nixon was met with an open hand containing cleaning supplies. Another semi-amused expression would flitter briefly across his face as the man gave her an up-nod. "Yeah, thanks. Of course." There'd be a time for cleaning once they were on board, for now he pocketed the little bottle and cloth with a grateful, if not stifled smile and slung the mask about his neck again, akin to her swinging headphones.
Metallic hands buried themselves into the depths of grey cargo pants and a duffle bag hung lightly from Nixon's shoulder. Star-Fire certainly had some character and while he was sure some of the crew could stand to stare at the pretty hunk of SpaceShip for a few more hours, he concurred with the Medic's statement. What was the hold-up? Could they hop on board? He wanted to poke around the ship and get settled in just about as much as the next person. Assuming their briefing was done and over with, as soon as he got the cue they were all set, (ie. room assignments or what-have-you) Nixon would take a few strides forward towards the entrance only bothering to toss a dismissive wave of hand over his shoulder.
Farewell, Earth.
But more important than his lackluster goodbye to home, was the announcement he had to make before anyone else could beat him to it.
"...Shotgun!"
All aboard.