[There are things that cross Steph's pass with a sense of familiarity; the smell of coffee, the way it feels when her fist hits a punching bag, the sound of the rain on her window. She clings to them when they come, not wanting to let go of anything that makes her feel as if she has a chance of remembering.

When she sees Jason, it isn't so much an echo of familiarity as it is a slap in the face, a warning siren that sits heavily in her chest as she frowns at him, trying to place the sensation. Killjoys are, by nature, dangerous, but that doesn't explain the unease she's feeling. Steph wants to examine it, pull it apart piece by piece until she finds out where it came from, but as long as she works for the Company, business has to come first.

She shoves the feeling down.]

That's me. I don't think they expected someone who knew how to shoot, I managed to give them enough trouble they decided it wasn't worth it. [Despite the unease, it feels almost natural to smirk when she adds:] I'm a good shot.

[There's blood in the airlock, but that won't be much help unless the owners are on file.]