And as the Captain himself walked towards him, Ryner opened his mouth to engage in conversation but he was brushed aside as though he were a vulgar domestic droid. He couldn’t help but give Rawls a look of pure contempt as he watched the man’s back move further away. A look he quickly suppressed as Mara walked up to him.

“Ah, Mara” he nodded and smiled. “Please. Call me Terrent. We’d best find some seats or something, right? Let’s get to it then. Unless you have obligations on the bridge?” And as he found somewhere to secure himself into, he couldn’t help but hope that this rust bucket wouldn’t fall apart at the joints when they’d enter hyperspace.

"I trust you know how to work a seat belt?" She joked as she offered the passenger a smile. "I kid, of course." Mara followed up. "Once we're in hyperspace though, you can go back to well, whatever it is you were doing. Trying to talk to the Captain, I assume. Maybe once we're out of here in relative safeness." She shrugged as she fastened her own seat belt, then offered him a smile.

"Are your accommodations sufficient?" She asked as she looked over to make sure he was getting safely secured in his own seat. Sometimes, the Aphelion take offs and landings and, well, flights tended to be a bit on the rough side.

With a slight chuckle, Dav spun his seat around to face the Cap'n, crossing one leg over the other and lighting a victory cigarette... even though there really wasn't anything for Vanden to feel victorious about. "So Cap'n-" he started, coughing slightly as Percy jerked the ship a tad, and shooting the pilot a glare. "-You get a chance yet to check out that... thing... I talked to you about?"

He wasn't so particular about buckling himself in, despite his experience the first time, as long as he was ready. Quiet a few times, he could be found inside a hatch, holding onto the sides and enjoying the ride during a jump. However, when they had guests, especially seemingly innocent, sheltered, or squeamish ones like their current passenger, he made a point of joining them and finding what made them tick for later sessions of making them feel uncomfortable alongside the Captain. Today, was definitely the case, as by the time they had exited the atmosphere, he was joining Antares and Dacres in the lounge, silently buckling himself into one of the seats.

He gave a little cough as Ransom actually sat down to buckle himself and gave him a quick nod of the head in greeting. With Mara, he was sure he could have a conversation (even if it revolved around the weather). But he doubted he could initiate any polite talk with this beat of a man. Though he would have liked to be proven wrong. He had been known to cast judgment too early on in certain cases. However... he somehow felt he'd be justified in this situation.

'Terrent this is Ransom, Ransom...Terrent. Be nice." She warned Ransom, though she was sure her warning would go completely ignored. Mara turned her gaze to Terrent for a moment and she offered a smile. "Ransom is....well....nevermind what he does." She thought it best not to explain that the man could single handedly raise a body count into double digits, even when there weren't that many enemies to start with, or that he named his guns.

The Captain's words held wisdom, that much was obvious, and Dav felt a tinge of relief when Rawls had decided they'd take the job. "Sounds chipper to me, Cap'n, I've some additions 'need be done to my room and a fair split of fifty grand 'ought to about do it." In truth, Dav had just finished installing a rather awesome (according to him, anyway) astral projector in his room, and now he'd no money for anything else. He'd be damned if he was going to go another month without buying a new jacket, hell, perhaps he'd even branch out from black this time. "And I can burn time with the best of 'em, Rawlsy, I'll keep Mr. Dacres onboard."

"It's alright to let the riders know what I do, Antares; this one had the privilege of seeing it first hand. You see, Dacres, my job is in fact the same at Antares' over here, we just have different specialties concerning out positions as the 'Public Relations Officers' aboard the vessel," he said, now shifting to a more comfortable position to talk to the two of them. He talked with a... unique... accent. One that would be hard to place for most, but Terrent's real upbringing would probably allow him to pick up on the unique mixture of lower-level Coruscant and rural Dantooine. "It's a simple matter of who we can handle the best. Antares here, she handles the guests, makes ya feel cozy and at home. She has a gift with her mouth. Me? I have a gift with my hands; weapons are my specialization. Don't get me wrong, I am gifted with my mouth as well. However, I deal with... the other side of our public relations," he said, smiling and chuckling as he remembered a Lower Coruscanti saying he came up to describe his work.

His eyes trained themselves on the Captain every few seconds, and as Rawls moved, so did Davon. Perhaps it was some subconscious need to relate to his mentor, or perhaps it was merely his body trying its hand at mimicry, but every move Rawls made, Dav too repeated not a second later. The Captain would cough, and he'd cough; he'd shift his weight to the other hip, and so, too, would Vanden. It reached the point that he was certain someone must be staring, and he managed to compose himself enough to stop, though not without regarding the rest of the crew with an uncertain glance. His gaze lingered a bit longer on Mara, just enough to admire the brilliance of her eyes, before returning to the Captain. The faint smell that Rawls had picked up on graced his nostrils then, too, and Vanden realized he'd forgotten to take dinner off the stove. He found himself torn: stay like a good "second mate" should, or rush to the kitchen and correct the mistake before supper was utterly ruined. Thus, his mind waged civil war, and Dav's foot tapped the durasteel floor uncomfortably.

It was a bit awkward between them now. Or so she felt. Since the nightstand incident. Mara hadn't known until that night that one could swear in so many languages. That night also taught her that while she had feelings for Davon, it had been a bad idea to try and act on them.

"Sounds like a plan. You know me...don't much care where we go so long as we don't fall out of the sky getting there." Mara said as she pulled herself into a standing position and needlessly smoothed her hands over the barely there midriff of her shirt. Her gaze, from then on, dutifully avoided Davon. "Now if ya'll will excuse me...." She skirted around the perimeter of the room and vanished out one of the doors and down a corridor.

Later though, since Davon was in charge of dinner and there was no risk of him returning to the cockpit for a while, Percy would likely find her plopped down in the pilots seat with her legs curled up under her as she just stared at the blueness of hyperspace.