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Deep within the hanger there was one happy woman. Gwen hadn't been expecting in her exploring of the ship to find any sort of craft that she was familiar with let alone having been in trained in using. Sure the hovercraft skiff was Alliance made and catered but, eh, those were just the minor details. The military craft ranged in the medium size able to see up to six people max. Eight if you were pushing it and knew exactly how to get people crammed in there like a puzzle. Shi knew from experience just how to do that though she was hoping while on Stacy she'd never have to do it again.

Music blared from somewhere close to her. Old Earth-that-was rock songs dating back to the early 2000s. It was decent enough music- Beastie Boys, Black Eyed Peas, The Fray, Kings of Leon. Anything that she had been able to find within the database that had good work beats to it. Already the red head was elbow deep in grease as well as grime trying to put the few modifications on the one Alliance Medium class Skiff that she had set her eyes on. It was going to need a serious paint job to get the two patches off the sides that had been painted on. Not a big deal but the sooner they were off the better.

Carefully the Lieutenant was balanced barely hanging off one of the larger guns with her right leg hooked around it and her left waving about in the air. One of the side hatches was popped open with her a little more than waist deep inside tugging at cords and various technical panels inside. Factory direct items were never modified till after they were in use and all their bugs were found. Gwen knew them. Gwen was going to fix them. It was good to pass the time. That was until she found herself having more than a little trouble trying to get out of the side panel.

After squirming around a little the woman let out a loud squeak suddenly wishing she hadn't turned up the music so loud. "Uh.. hello? Anyone? .....help?"

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Since his escapades in the Sensoriums with a few drinking partners, Mal had mostly kept to himself. He told people it was mostly because he had his mind on other things, but in reality, he'd been trying to get rid of a slight hangover.

But he was mostly recovered now, and bored of seeing the same four walls of his room. So he took to walking around the ship, his steps leading him to the hangar, where he heard music playing and... Someone asking for help.

His curiosity piqued, he walked closer, and inquired, "What's all this? Somethin' you need a hand with?"

Oh! A person! Gwen's left leg moved a little as she shifted once more trying to find a hold enough to herself out of the position she had managed to get herself caught in. "Ah.. more like.. a hand out of? I can't get out exactly without thinking I'm gonna be cuttin' something off I might need."

When she shifted again the red head squeaked a little more as she slid another half inch in to the skiff finding her hands pressing against one of the control panel boxes. "A little help please? Everything is starting to feel fuzzy..."

Mal raised an eyebrow, taking in Gwen's predicament, but didn't make a comment on it, deciding the woman needed to get out of there first. He awkwardly stepped closer, wondering exactly how she'd gotten stuck there in the first place, and reached out to grab one of her hands to pull her out.

"All right, I can pull you out if you're ready." She looked like she was more than ready, but Mal wanted to give her warning before did anything.

"Do you need to even ask?" Already the woman was shifting around finding that it was going to be harder than she could remember. Yes she had gotten stuck in a skiff like this before and it wasn't exactly a high point in her military career. "Careful! Just.. pull a little ther- Ouch! Dĕng yìmiăo. Let me just see if I can still fit in here.."

With what little grace the woman had left she started to wiggle her way in to the side panel that had been open. It wasn't an easy fit- five years ago she had been able to fit in side that little crawl space no problem after months of eating army rations. Not was a little bit of another story. Thankfully it only took Gwen a few seconds of twisting this way and that before her hands finally grabbed the side panels hauling herself painfully slow. Her arms clung to the side of the skiff daring enough movement to brush long strands of red hair outta her face.. and looking right in to Mal's.

Grinning wide the younger woman started to blush a little. "Hi.."

The actual process of getting her out was long, and definitely difficult, but finally she got out of there, and... Endned up being really close to his face. He smiled, noticing her blush, and replied, "Hi. Don't think we've met. At least, not in person."

He kept his hand out, offering a handshake, and finally let his curiosity get the better of him. "So, is this your ship?"

Dustin was on his way to fix up his own ship, one that he’d found a week or so back and that he’d already made fantastic progress on. Already the wiring was done and tested, the flooring was in, the main panels were set…just needed materials for the hull and some extra insulation. The defense systems would also need some prepping.

But it wasn’t like he just had all of those things sitting around from his workshop back home—most of them were still in the chemical blueprint stages, such as the outer hull, which was made of a carbon polymer and steel/titanium mixture of Dustin’s own design that should be, theoretically, several powers stronger than industrial-grade diamond.

He just needed the bases was all. And where better to get them than from other abandoned craft, yeah?

Dustin wasn’t going to be tearing apart any ships today, admittedly—just doing some rudimentary scans, seeing what was available—no, something else had caught his attention.

First it was the music. When he briskly walked over to yell at the culprit for blaring that crap anywhere near his child, Dustin then noticed the shapely, flailing legs of a female mechanic jutting from the side panel of a nearby fighter. And thus his interest was immediately captured.

For the sake of maintaining his reputation, he stood just out of reach and addressed her loudly and slowly.

“Nice craft you have here! Could use a new coat of paint though.”

"Oh shi-" was the most that Gwen was able to get out as she slid another half an inch deeper in to the side panel, her arm touching up against the outside of a control box somewhere near the dampeners that helped keep the craft in hover. "Ah.. yeah. More than a new coat of paint. I, er, need t' get some certain little images off her sides."

But now wasn't the time to be talking about paint jobs and quality of Alliance militaria. There was already a slight buzz of caused by blood rushing to her head that was a pressing matter. "Do you think you could give me a hand outta here? Please?"

Dustin didn’t hold back a grin. It wasn’t like she could see him, after all.

“Of course it does. Why else would you be digging around inside a mechanical ganglion unless there was something else that needed fixing?”

He blatantly ignored her request for help, instead stepping within tantalizing reach of her flailing legs and observing the dampeners with concentrated, resolute interest.

“What’s this, a hovering unit?” Dustin casually stroked his chin stubble, “Kinda big for a craft this size. What kind of material is the hull made out of, osmium?”

That was a joke, by the way.