Funny, how groups of unlikely individuals come together when a common enemy presents itself. In dire straits, one forgets whatever petty squabbling they'd entertained prior. Tense workplace relationships meld together into a unanimous human will to survive, that which is not easily broken. It'd taken three deaths for her and her crew to kick their asses into gear. Though really, none of it felt real until Dallas died. Until that little twinkling light on Lambert's navigation screen stilled and went dim. Disappeared. Such a simple representation of death, but nonetheless an effective one.

Ripley hums thoughtfully, perhaps a bit glum-sounding. "Sometimes you can't help but fall into old habits. You gravitate toward what you know, even if it's sucked the life out of you. Even if it's caused you hell. Maybe it feels easier than trying something new." She shrugs. "You do something for so long that it begins to feel like a part of you. Hard to get away from, that way."

These are just guesses, of course.

She's careful not to overstep any lines, though feels concerned that she might be footing close to one.

"Yeah, being planetside isn't so bad. For one, I haven't slept in a real bed in..." A scoffing laugh. "Forever. Just cryosleep, and that's messy business. Slimy and cold." ...Not that she finds herself able to sleep much, anyway. She keeps this to herself. "The food here is good, too. Nothing like the cheap amalgamations you get on most trips out. I mean, how rare is it to eat a piece of real meat? Or bread?"