"He's wracked up quite a fine for property damages." Ripley jokes, sounding no less affectionate toward the wriggly thing. Keeps to herself how most mornings she debates (with genuine consideration) stuffing the cat into her work bag and bringing him along for any given shift. A selfish comfort she doesn't allow, but that doesn't mean she can't think about it.

"You put that target up, that's something." She ribs. Then, a low hum. "But I think I will. If I'm going to be here for god knows how long, I might as well make the most of it, right? Space travel doesn't leave much room for customization. Really, this is the first time I've ever had my own... place. House, I mean."

This doesn't quite feel like her place. Not yet. Perhaps not ever.

A saccharine fountain catches her eye.

"You like chocolate?"