"I assume you're heading up as well?"
For a second Reeve stood silent, the world around him seemingly moving in slow motion. A side effect of reintegrating systems after the several hours he'd just spent as a 'pure,' disconnected from any and all augments. Vaguely aware that Vivian was saying something, he turned to face her, nodded slowly, let out a gentle "Thank you, everyone. I'll see you on the bridge, then."
It took a moment to realise that everyone had already started to leave, had spun away from him and made for the transits. Brows wrinkled almost imperceptibly as the man realised he'd just zoned out again, lost focus for long enough that the others had moved half the distance to the exit before he'd even processed that they were going. Still, he mused, smile regaining the strength it had held when he'd first greeted the crew, there was nothing to do about it now. The AF net was old, perhaps its interfaces were losing reliability. And if so, wasnt that entirely his fault. No neural lace was designed to be deactivated, especially not so regularly. Anton had been horrified when he'd dropped it into conversation. Said it was tantamount to switching off a chunk of your mind every day. Perhaps, next they passed an Envoy station, he'd place a request for a custom build.
Whistling tunelessly, he followed the others, pinging Troy with a notice that he was on his way and patching into ship comms so he could hear what was going on before he got there. There were footsteps, then his lips split in a foxlike grin as Durand greeted everyone in her inimical style. Honestly, Reeve had never understood how the girl had qualified as a pilot, and especially why she was trusted so implicitly, besides the obvious reason. And that was another thing that ran at odds with him. The relationship between her and Troy. Relationships amongst serving crews was explicitly forbidden in Envoy code, since one pilot dropped his ship into atmosphere in what was almost certainly a suicide mission, willing to risk the lives of the half-regiment on board for that of his lover. Still, her skills were exemplary, and much as the girl was caustic and overly, pointlessly, aggressive, and it wasnt as if the rest of them were any better. That was something about the captain. He seemed to attract the cast offs, the highly skilled and slightly odd. His own little disfunctional family.
Troy was talking. Some joke about Durand and Allan, then orders. Hm. He was to remain on ship whilst several others dropped planetside. Shame. It would have been nice to stretch his legs, see something that wasnt the ship, even if just for an hour. The captain had also decided, for reasons Reeve couldnt see, to leave them without a pilot. True, if it came down to it, the Excessive in his quarters could take override and control, but with nowhere near the fine motion that a dedicated pilot could bring to the table. Nevertheless.
He strode on to the bridge, nodded once at Troy, gave a simple, "Of course, Captain." Nothing else needed to be said. Not here, at least, in public. As Troy walked out of the bridge, he followed, spinning on his heel, dovetailing as Troy headed for quarters, Reeve instead making for the mess. It'd been several hours since he'd eaten anything, and from the appetising smell of cooking food, it was almost ready. Slipping through the door, raising a hand to their resident alchemist a la mange, he made his way to the couch, stretched out catlike, then perched himself the opposite end to Delvia, glanced sidelong at the girl, obviously absorbed in something or other, her eyes staring off at a point far past the walls of the mess, then relaxed backwards with a sigh and waited for dinner.