The Tempest: Ryder

Ryder's omni-tool flashed with a received message. The soft white light snapped her out of a daze. Her legs were numb from sitting at her desk for so long.

"Sam, what time is it?" She asked out of reflex.

"Pathfinder, you have been sitting at your desk for three hours. Reading the same reports from varying outpost," Sam replied.

Ryder was lucky in regards to the AI knowing what she truly meant. "Who is still awake?"

"Gil and Jal,"

Wiping a hand over her face, Ryder stood up. "I'm assuming Gil is in the Engine Room and Jal is tinkering in his room," She was tired, but her mind buzzed with thoughts of resources for outposts, request lists for transfers or waking out of cryo, reports from angaraan embassies, special request from angaraans, and request/updates from the crews individual special projects.

"Yes, Pathfinder," Sam said.

Ryder nodded, looking down at the blinking light on her omni-tool. She swiped at the message button. "It is a message from Reyes," Her heart skipped a beat. Reyes Vidal. Haven't heard from you in a while, she thought dimly. She hadn't really thought too much of him recently. Yet, whenever his name was mentioned, her heart still jumped with excitement.

After leaving him in charge of Kadara Port, she thought their flirtation and kisses were done. Not that she had wanted them to end exactly, but the reality of the situation wasn't lost on her. He was the Charlatan and he had used her to get what he wanted. Even if he hadn't meant to by the end, he had set out in the beginning to do so. Ryder couldn't shake the attraction though. There was something about Reyes that was appealing.

Sitting on the roof top after Sloane's party, drinking and talking with him. She had seen something in him. A desire to be acknowledged or at least as someone with something to contribute. She had been honest with him. He was somebody to her. Even if his motives had been entirely for the sake of taking down Sloane.

He was a smooth talker that was certain, but there was a genteel quality to him. Something that either drew a person in or slapped them back—she didn't know which had happened to her. They had kissed and danced. She had loved not being the Pathfinder for a couple of minutes, but in truth she didn't know if it was her, Danica Ryder, he was seeing or the Pathfinder. She didn't like not knowing. In the reality, if she was being truly honest with herself. He saw only the Pathfinder and what he could do with an advantage of her title.

Biting her lower lip, she read the message.