"No, it can be done tomorrow!" came Fahir’s voice from just outside the galley. "Sure thing bossmang!" came Luis' voice, much quieter. Fahir had a habit of micromanaging the crew in their duties. If he had ever acknowledged that he might have connected it to their roster of engineers which rotated more rapidly than Spinal Tap drummers. However, with Luis it worked just fine. The man had been on ships his entire life and liked being told exactly what to do and when. Fahir stepped into the galley, offering Iris a nod. There was no obvious embarrassment, but his body language was more stilted than usual. Part of that was the after effects of the drugs that had left him feeling a little hollow. He was glad Iris had given him a heads up on that so he knew its source. "They, er, came to collect the hardware but painted the crates before taking them. Left blue paint all over cargo deck two," he explained. It made sense, he supposed. A crate covered in UN serial numbers and warning signs was a little conspicuous. He walked for the cuboards to find something vacuum packed and frozen to reheat. "Seen Ren around?" he asked.