[ Fox's voice is noticably strained at this point, given the stress of either running or combat, adding on the death penalty she's had since waking up in the graveyard after the team games - a constant, white hot, searing burning at the old scar on the side of her neck. Sleep has been difficult to manage, both due to the burn and the fact Fox is not even willing to let herself pass out here unless she's certain there won't be space zombies dropping out of the vents to skin her in her sleep.

But exhaustion is getting on the edge of very dangerous, and shit needs to be done about it. So, even strained, her tone is short, clipped, blank and all business. ]

I'm looking to make a trade.

I can offer protection, rations, medical supplies and favors owed presently or later (not excluding defending or locating other things or people) for anyone willing to part with the following -

Pain killers, sedatives, any sort of topical numbing agents, adrenaline shots or some kind of energy boost equivalent, ice or a cold pack.

[ it's a weird list, but she wants to stave off the current distraction, be able to sleep when she has the opportunity, and be able to stay awake when she needs to. the rest of this shit she can deal with, but those things are necessity for survival. she cannot risk passing out in the middle of the goddamn ship alone and undefended. ]

private to hyperion;

Want that second letter?

private to wesley and chief;

Is there a secure zone established?