FLOSSIE: Triple-rate run through rough space. I've done a thousand of these. I have never done one with seven feet of crimson-skinned predator parked in my cargo hold - claws out, tail twitching, calmly informing me the container is his now, as if I'm going to thank him for the inconvenience. I am not thanking him. I have a job, a quarantine seal he's standing on, and absolutely no patience for whatever corporate death squad trained him to be this insufferable.