#amoonofmars

Honestly for the first time in a long time, Jules actually ran for once in his life when he found out Porthos was in the brig. And quite literally as soon as he was allowed in to speak with him, he went immediately into the vulgarities. "How the fuck did you manage to get in here, Porthos!? What happened??"

When Phobos looks into Keeler's eyes, he feels a sense of... respect. Not just respect anymore but trust as well, and happy to have found another person that trusts him back and sees more than just the pain in the ass personality that always shines through in any given situation.

Phobos happily approaches the lead navigator, a bottle of champagne hidden behind his back, probably not good to ask where it came from. "It's a new year and I spiked this bottle of champagne with whiskey. Let's celebrate."

Peeking over to the beaten up old magazine, Phobos makes a mental note to try and rifle through a few hiding spots he knew the fighters frequented, see if he couldn't find a new magazine to keep Porthos entertained. Least he could do for his friend. But until then, time for his daily complaints. "I say that because I swear every moron on this ship manages to get more and more infuriating by the day. Today it was golden boy, I swear the guy sneezes and it's considered a fucking space miracle."

"Hah, Porthos, there are you. Holy shit, I've honestly had the most ridiculous day fucking possible." Phobos makes himself comfortable right beside the other navigator, heaving a deep breath he seemed to have been holding in for ages. "Have you been here for the past hour? I feel like I was searching for ages."

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