Larin enters from the corridor. Larin has arrived. Urfkgar is sitting against the bulkhead with a Zangali of Fortune magazine in his lap. Jeff Ryan is snoozing in the pilot's chair. The door to the cockpit slides open with a hiss to expose the profile of a fairly stout but well-built figure. It pauses in for the door way, some sort of equipment strapped to its back and in its left hand it holds something. It steps into the light raising whatever it has in its right hand ... a kitten? Meow. No need to be alarmed. Just Larin. "Honey! I'm home!", he murmurs in a gruff tone, sliding off his duffel bag onto the floor.