Haxta stared at the sleeping arrangements in mingled horror and alarm, and was glad that she had her hood pulled far forward. Between the deep shadows cast by the thick fabric, and the mask of tubes and filters of her respirator unit, her face was well hidden from view, so with luck no one would know how appauled she was by the situation. It was not the state of ill repair and maintaince that truly bothered her, though such shoddy conditions did not speak well of the ship or it's crew. It was the idea of sleeping in such an open, vulnerable location, surrounded by men!
Thoughts racing furiously, she accepted the pamphlet absent-mindedly from Sebek, not even noticing the ink staining her fingers. Her gaze traveled across the room, to where the battle sister was stowing her gear. Haxta's respirator hissed as she let out a long breath. She made her way swiftly across the floor, to claim the bunk nearest the warrior woman. Perhaps, if anything were to happen, if any of the men got any ideas, she might be able to count on the battle sister's help. She knew that she was suppose to be working with the others, that they were going to all be part of the same team, but at this point, she knew nothing of any of them, and was only certain that she could trust none of them as of yet.
Lowering her kit to the floor, she sat stiffly on the bunk, her hands wrapped tightly around the slender staff of steel she carried as a walking stick.She held the staff across her knees, breathing in slow, steadying breaths, seeking to over come her nerves with calm, rational logic. These people were to be working with her, her with them, they were on the same team, they were allies. Surely she had no reason to fear her own allies. Her grip on her staff didn't slack in the slightest, and the electoo on the back of her hand shimmered and crackled with minor discharges of static from her tension.