IC:
Chag hovered restlessly above the assembled group. He glanced down disapprovingly. They were a ragtag bunch, not the sort of people he would work with by choice, but then, he didn't seem to have a choice about very much these days. He rubbed the cluster of round scars on his forearm where The Creeper had grabbed him. The cold was making it sore. Upon his dismissal, Chag rattled forwards towards the supply crate and
[E] grabbed a flashlight. *DR*
He stopped outside the large blast doors of the lab, and turned around to survey the operatives as they went in.
He hoped Dore was happy in his retirement. Himself, he still had to face death a few more times before he was free.
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