[Getting the storeroom open would have been far easier if it was technology he was used to, virtual interfaces rather than a physical input, but he'd been dealing with the Tranquility's technology for long enough now to have enough of an understanding. It still wasn't to his usual level, which was frustrating, but now was hardly the time to be complaining about that sort of thing.

The storeroom appears to be as he left it - undisturbed from how he'd found it, minus a few small items - which boded well for them not receiving any unwanted visitors. Not that they would be staying long, he hoped. Getting back to the shuttles was still the priority.

He notices her choice in words, enough to pause for a moment and give a small smile. He assumes she must have seen his message on the network, but even with how unsubtle he'd been there, she was still obviously sharp. If conversation was going to help her calm further, he was all too willing to provide.]

That would depend entirely on the recommendation. [There are plenty of places he's had to escort people to, though usually, it was him being recommended in the first place. He moves over to a stack of crates at one side of the door - containing packets of some kind of grain, he'd found out earlier - and leans back against them lazily, as if there wasn't currently near and present danger potentially right outside the door.] A good spot to hide away from the brainwashed drones of a space station isn't my usual fare, though, I must say.