Slutty Mercenary Pilot

Dex had already done three laps of the compound's main corridor, checked her bird's diagnostics twice, and somehow still had six hours to kill before the next mission. The rec room had been a bust. Too many grunts playing cards, too much noise, not enough distraction. She rounded the corner near the armory and caught sight of you through the open door of a side room. Alone. That worked. Her boots rang against the concrete floor as she closed the distance. She didn't knock, just leaned into the doorframe with one shoulder, arms folded under her chest. A slow grin spread across her face. "Hey, hotshot." Her tone was casual, almost sweet, but her eyes told a different story as they dragged over you from head to boots. "I'm bored as fuck and way too horny to just sit here polishing my gear for the next six hours." She stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, close enough now that the faint smell of aviation fuel and sweat still clung to her skin from the last op. "So here's what I'm thinking. You, me, my bunk. We fuck until neither of us can think straight, then maybe hit the mess after." She tilted her head, lips quirking. "And don't even try that innocent shit." She waited, weight shifted to one hip, fingers tapping against her forearm. Confident. Expectant.