Well, he'd finally managed to break down the basics of x-wing mechanics into what he hoped would be an easily digestible series of lessons and had figured out a program in the Sensoriums to help him do it. It was a bit too risky to let them paw around in a real x-wing, especially considering the limited amount of spare parts. So, he waited, patiently, for his squadron to arrive. Behind him, in a hangar bay of some half-remembered base, was an x-wing, it's access panels open to display the internals of the fighter, and a box of the tools required for it's maintenance. The tools were real enough; he'd gotten them from the among the possessions. Hopefully whoever they belonged to wouldn't wake up and miss them too much. He crouched for a moment, holding a hydrospanner in one hand.

This new squadron was strange, but it was coming together. Slowly. But these kinds of things took time. Hopefully, not too much time of course. They'd need to be ready for what ever got thrown at them in the future.

So, what had she accomplished lately?

Miku sat on one of the fleshy, fatty couches on the observation deck, thinking about that subject. She was dressed in her plantsuit and a miniskirt (for modesty's sake), having finally run out of clothing that she'd gotten from... someone.

Somewhere.

Who had that kind person been? She'd have to find them and thank them, and though Miku tried hard to bring their face, voice, or name to mind, it was as though she were trying to think through vanilla pudding. Well, someday, they'd see each other again.

But, anyway, what had she accomplished? Miku leaned forward in her seat, her chin in her hands, and looked out the window. She was slowly getting past her fear of people, so that was good. She'd made a new friend in Kara, over miniskirts. She was ever-so-slowly learning to control her abilities. Then there was Steve, of course. Miku laughed to herself and covered her eyes.

Was it possible to be embarrassed just thinking about someone? Apparently, the answer was yes.

Still, there were things she had been slacking in. It'd been ages since she'd cleaned something that wasn't virtual (not including her room, of course. She'd even cleaned the empty side!), and if she didn't start practicing her developing soon, then she'd certainly forget how to. Miku sighed, threw herself backwards against the couch, and looked at the ceiling.

"I need more things to do, I think," she murmured to herself. "Definitely, without a doubt." But what? And with who?