*OTA*

[silverhypnosis]

*El sat, perched dangerously close to the edge of a chair, in the mess hall. The look on her face suggested she was unamused, as one gun sat on the table in front of her, the other in her hand while she cleaned it. Placing it down, she reached for her coffee, wincing as she knocked her hip against her seat. The bruise that was surely forming would be spectacular. Ice, when fallen upon, could be a bitch and she had been less than pleased when she'd slipped and landed heavily on one side; the side on which her gun was strapped. She was lucky the safety had been on or she may have been spending a day or more in the med bay with a bullet wound. Her wrist was throbbing painfully from where she'd flung it out to lessen the impact, most of which her hip had taken.

She let out a sigh, grabbing her coffee and enjoying the burn as the hot, brown liquid slid down her throat, warming her. Placing the mug back down, on the other side, El set to work on the second gun.*