"What in the blazing butt crack of Xandarj orange hind end kind of crap-toed pilot drags the bottom of their ship across my pristine flight deck?" a woman's voice bellowed from over forty yards away. "If you can't fly better than… What kind of pasted-together piece of ass-ended refuse is rusting… I can't believe I let that…" "That's Hangar Master Mads Bazer," Blue Tork said. "She's within her rights to dress you down, so don't be drawing on her if you want to live through the storm."
