Drake shot Alpha a glance as the glass shattered, though his exact thoughts weren't apparent. He'd nodded absently during the conversation regarding finances, instead choosing to flip through the proposed repairs and refinements to the Arrowhead. The original ship was unsalvageable, having quite literally fallen to pieces on Skiraja, but Arrowhead-class corvettes and transports were a dime-a-dozen, and most of these modifications seemed feasible. "[b]Polycarbonate bulkheads, nanotube honeycomb bracing, built-in kinetic superconductors...[/b]" Drake muttered quietly to himself, nodding approvingly or shaking his head disapprovingly at random intervals. After a few minutes of reading, he jarringly slammed the papers on the table. He looked up at the table, clearly troubled by what he had to say. "[b]I, uh... [i]*goddammit*[/i],[/b]" he muttered to himself, "[b]I think that [i]we[/i] should... [i]collectively[/i] vote on what kind of ship we should pick as our replacement.[/b]" The words we and collectively were heavily strained, as if the thought of sharing input on ship design pained him. On the right side of his forehead, a vein visibly throbbed beneath his skin, which seemed to have lost some of its hue over the course of the sentence. "[b]Good for morale...[/b]" he trailed off, looking away in order to stifle the emotions he felt about his ship, despite remaining rather stoic for the dramatic conversations just minutes prior.