Abbey is currently on her way back to her room, freeze-dried ice cream sandwich in hand. She bites into the snack thoughtfully. She's probably the only ghoul in the entire moonbase who enjoys these things.

She can't complain too much about her stay on the moon so far. Sure, it isn't the most ideal situation (and she would much rather prefer to spend her Sunday back in Massachusetts studying for a Clawculus test), but she is thankful for a place to rest her head at night and food to eat. She's even considering helping out on a mission or two to re-stock the creepateria with meals.

She swallows and bites into her ice cream again, but a piece breaks off and falls to the floor near someone's feet. Abbey isn't the type to litter and walk away, so she begins to speak to the guy before her. "Sorry. Will pick up."