Grif is not happy, but that shouldn't be news to anyone that's met him. He doesn't like being here, he doesn't like the people he's stuck with, and he really doesn't like his team assignment.

So what's a guy to do? Go work on building some actual muscle tone so Samus' training from hell won't hurt so bad next time? Ask around and see what he can do to help toward the goal of going home? Find a way to be otherwise useful?

Heck no! This is Grif. He'll be in the media lab, playing Tetris in an effort to push all this out of his mind for a bit. It seems to be working.

He's actually pretty good at it, if you watch him. Though those bricks are starting to pile up, and they're moving faster and faster and faster and...

"Dammit!"

Grif scowls at the screen, smacking a couple buttons furiously to get a new game to load up.

Bored. Bored. Boring.

After the initial oh my god I'm on a spaceship wore off, Rondeau discovered that there wasn't really much to do. Sure, he could read a book or something on the jumbo-Kindles in the media library, or watch a movie, but that could only entertain him for so long.

For the most part, he'd been hanging back. Observing. Marla would be proud of him for not just jumping in like a big-ass idiot and running his mouth. By this point, he'd pretty much he'd pretty much surmised the following: There was all sorts of weird shit here, and he was probably the least of it. What he was didn't need to be broadcasted, but it would behoove him to find someone who was in charge and have a little chat with them. (Not that he especially liked having to put his life on the line, if the situation called for it, but it sure as hell beat sitting around.) He also figured topics like sorcery were probably okay to go on about, but he wasn't keen on blabbing too much about that, if only because his boss would kick him with her magically-reinforced steel-toed boots for his trouble. And last, but not least, he knew really, really needed a drink. A big fat hamburger would be nice, too.

So, in lieu of actually knowing where to find somebody to talk to (either someone that he needed to talk to, or that was worth talking to, he wasn't picky), Rondeau was just riding transport tubes at random.

Well, it kept him occupied at least.

Tilting her head a bit to the side, Temperance leans a little closer to the skeleton that was on the examining table. Obviously she is in one of  the sensoriums which has kindly recreated her lab from the Jeffersonian. Sadly it hadn't bothered to give her a replica of Angela or Zack or Hodgins. Even though she likes to work alone, she has to admit she misses the constant barrage of chatter that seemed to follow where ever those three were.

Reaching out with a gloved hand, she runs her fingers gingerly over the skull before carefully picking it up and examining it closer. "Hmmm....." she mutters aloud. "The skeleton is in remarkably good shape.  Female, and based on the dentition and condition of the vertebrae, she was fairly young. Possibly in the mid to late twenties, though no older than mid thirties."

It's not even a real dead body, but it's enough to keep Temeperance from going stir crazy and it actually in a way relaxes her.

[[OOC: Read this before tagging.]]

It seems like things around the ship have been getting rather lively lately.

And now, it's about to get even more lively.

||Pod Release Protocols Initating|| Stacy's familiar voice sounded out to all the podmates.

In the Pod Caverns, there were the sounds of: Pop. Pop pop pop. Poppuhpoppoppop. KASCHUNKhiiiiiiiissssss.

There was condensation and mist spraying out from cracks in the pods, as the people inside slid out onto the floors, covered in slime.