12th Transmission

[heavyweaponsbot]

I tire of this ship, its crew, and its... holidays. I have no use for these toys. What is the meaning of this?

And is there nowhere I can have a proper spar? Settle for the bees again, if nothing else...

Hmnf.

[The comm clicks off. If anyone is so inclined, the weapons master can be found down in the caves, brooding, and occasionally slamming a fist or two into the walls.

As for his squeaky whale, it has been deposited safely in front of a certain medical officer's door without so much as a word on the subject.]

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[heavyweaponsbot]

[He nods briefly, satisfied by this. If his opponent will be fine... nothing to worry about. His internal mandate survives after all.

He turns to limp off toward the exit, half-dragging the damaged leg.]