Micah was going to chew her out later. Or simply hug her knowingly. Probably both.

It was bound to happen under all this pressure, this stress. Her symptoms were triggered and the best Shara could do right now was to stuff them down until the completion of this mission. Then she could break down, fall apart, and pick herself back up off the floor when she was good and ready and not a second sooner.

Striding into the tiny Sickbay, Shara seemed fine except for the blood and deep bruising. She was in her new ‘uniform’ of black faux-leather leggings that stretched over her well toned lower-half and a jacket in a pale grey that hugged her lean body and flared out slightly over her hips, the collar encasing her neck, she cut a striking image. Especially as the jacket sides were adorned with fabric manipulation that seemed to resemble ribs.

Dark makeup disguising her true age, she was still older than much of the crew, but ‘middle-aged’ was as close as anyone could pinpoint at a glance. Scanning the empty med bay with a deeper frown, she shook her head. It was empty save for one person (their new passenger) and she wasn’t counting on them to be of any use just now given their state. “Anyone alive around here?” she called out, her mask of irritation more or less permanently set for this persona she had adopted.

~Shara Calloway, CIO with an attitude