Working with Falcon Squad was not one of Fen's favorite activities. Sure, the credits they shelled out for her unique brand of help were nice, and yeah, there were some good laughs once in a while. It hardly seemed worth it on days like today, though.
She tried to block most of it out of her head. Laying on her bunk at the base, absent-mindedly drumming her fingers on the metal, she tried not to picture the soot covered workers of the mine. Their dull eyes, too tired to be frightened, watching her. Children so starved and small they looked little more than ash and grime covered bones. She knew walking into the mission there would be people who needed their help – but that? It was one of the worst places she had ever seen, and she had spent a lot of time in and out and of sketchy places in her youth.
Fen sat up, shook clear the thoughts from her mind. This wouldn't do. She needed a drink, company, something. She hadn't gotten this far in life by dwelling on things. In fact, she made it a rule to push everything that made her uncomfortable as far back into her mind as possible. It was easier that way.
She slid off her bunk, pulled a tight sweater over her head to fend off the chill of the base. The halls were quiet as she padded through them, making no sound herself. Everyone must have turned in, choosing the comfort of sleep over the burn of memory.
A few more turns led her to the door of Laurelle's temporary room. It was cracked open the smallest bit, light shining faintly through the crack. Fen had figured the other woman would still be awake. Or rather, she had hoped.
“Laurelle?” She pushed the door open while she knocked, not bothering to wait for an answer.
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