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“You’re late.”
“Yeah whatever,” I muttered under my breath. Even on those rare occasions where we were on time and everything had gone smoothly, Scot still always found something to bitch about.
“Sorry,” I said, loud enough that she could hear it and satisfy her ego. I could have told her all the reasons my ship was a day late delivering her cargo but I knew she wouldn’t care. Wouldn’t care that we’d been attacked during pick-up, that we’d almost got caught by Reavers, that just flying out there in the black was often deadly.
Nobody cared about anyone anymore.