Zara is flopped in the engineering chair, still smoking, even though it's fairly likely she's not supposed to smoke onboard. "We're ready t'go." She says, rubbing her nose with the back of her hand. Malion must have finished securing the armoury, as he walks in looking a few kilos lighter. That can be attributed to the shotgun now being absent. The Martian makes his way towards the co-pilots seat, and then lowers himself into it. He takes a moment to do up his crash webbing. The Gunsmith doesn't add any comment, continuing with his work in complete silence.