In Hyperspace, No One Can Hear You Scream

[JediTigger]

The ship is greeted by one person, one person only, a woman of middling years with grease-spattered mechanic's overalls and a bun of iron-gray hair so tightly gathered one wonders how, or whether, it comes apart when let down. She is broad shouldered and hipped, the sort of build that implies she has no issue carrying equipment of any weight or correcting any ill-spoken pilot of any size, and her skin and eyes are as brown as Tavassian tea. Her name is N'frah, and her reputation is such that any ship brought her way is reparable, no matter how extensive the damage. She is familiar to most aboard the Ember, if not a friend to any.

She does not look at the people disembarking the ship.

"Iffin I were quick t'judge," she drawls to herself as she walks around the vessel, "I'd be thinkin' this lady were too abused t'be loved by her cap'n, even if I knows that innit true." She rests her hand on the hull. "Gonna need a Hutt's weight in metal just to be fix'n up the hull. Issokay, my girl, I'll be havin' ya pretty again soon enough. I promise ya such."