The hangar was quiet, the celebratory buzz from earlier having faded into the calm of the late evening. Most of the crew had turned in for the night, leaving the vast space dimly lit and filled with the faint hum of idle machinery. The only sounds were the occasional creak of metal and the soft tapping of a keyboard from one of the workstations.

Troy Hayes leaned back in a chair near the right foot of his Thunderbolt, his feet propped up on a nearby crate. He was idly tossing a small wrench in the air, catching it with practiced ease, a contented smile playing on his lips. Despite the late hour, Troy still radiated energy, his eyes bright as he gazed around the hangar.

Across the way, Marcus Black was crouched by his Wolverine, a datapad in hand. He was reviewing the mission logs, his brow furrowed in concentration. The serious look on his face was a stark contrast to the more relaxed, even carefree, Marcus that Troy had been bantering with earlier.

"Hey, Marcus," Troy called out, breaking the silence. "You ever just sit back and appreciate all this?" He gestured vaguely with the wrench, his tone light. "I mean, we pulled off a hell of a mission today, and now we’ve got some downtime. Gotta enjoy these moments, right?"

Marcus looked up from his datapad, his expression unreadable. "I appreciate the work we put in, Troy. And I appreciate the results. But there’s always more to do. No sense in getting too comfortable."

Troy caught the wrench and paused for a moment, studying Marcus. "What's eating at you?"

Marcus placed the datapad on a wheeled table and walked over to Troy, arms crossed. "Someone has to think ahead. The minute we stop planning is the minute we get caught off guard."

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"Yeah, yeah, I know." Troy waved a hand dismissively but kept his eyes on Marcus. "But there’s a balance, you know? We can be ready for the next fight and still enjoy the little victories. Otherwise, what’s the point? We’re just going from one job to the next, never taking a breather."

Marcus considered this for a moment, his gaze shifting to the Thunderbolt towering above them. He could see the wear and tear from their last mission, a few scuffs and dents that hadn’t yet been addressed. "I get what you’re saying, but I guess I just have a different way of unwinding."

Troy raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Oh? And what do you do to unwind? I bet it’s something boring, like reading mission reports or polishing your mech's armor."

A small smirk tugged at the corner of Marcus’s mouth. "Actually, I like to run sims. Keeps me sharp."

Troy groaned dramatically. "See? Boring. You need to lighten up, Marcus. Maybe next time, you should join us in the mess hall for one of our card games. I promise it’ll be more fun than running sims."

Marcus shook his head, the smirk turning into a genuine, albeit small, smile. "Maybe one day, Troy. But for now, I’ll stick to what works for me."

Troy shrugged, tossing the wrench up one last time before catching it and setting it down on the crate. "Fair enough, man. Just remember to take it easy. You'll wear yourself out, you worry that hard."

Marcus nodded, appreciating the sentiment even if he didn’t fully agree. "I’ll keep that in mind."

Troy stood up, stretching his arms over his head. "Alright, I’m calling it a night. Don’t stay up too late, Marcus. We’ve got a whole lot of nothing to do tomorrow, and I plan to enjoy every second of it."

As Troy sauntered off towards the barracks, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was bothering Marcus more than he was letting on. Despite their differences, there was something about Marcus’s sudden shift in mood that stuck with him. Still, Troy knew better than to push too hard—Marcus would talk when he was ready.

With a final glance up at his mech, Marcus picked up his datapad and returned to his work. But this time, the usual satisfaction of running through the data wasn’t there. The weariness was starting to creep in, and for the first time, he wondered if maybe it was time to take a break.