The klaxon of an alarm woke the Mandalorian from his rest and roused him from the recurring memory of the purge, slate-grey eyes slowly adjusted to the dim lights in his quarters. Wulfram tossed in his bed for a moment more before he reached out and grabbed the offending helmet from the stand and pressed the interior switch to disable the alarm and activated the intercom.

"Winchester. You awake, or is Ritz flying this heap?" He asked, knowing full well that if it was first alarm, Chris was likely asleep in the Wheelhouse and Ritz was steering them through deep space.

They were on their way home from a far-flung assignment on Coruscant. A VIP security detail, with Chris securing sight lines across the promenade while Wulfram provided close support for their principle. An uneventful job, by far, without interruption or even a bar fight afterwards.

Every assignment was the same, verify target, stock up, ship out, perform, drink, go home. And these assignments were Wulfram's life, day in, day out. Even if it was a simple pickup, a break-in, or being someone's escort, the work was his life.

"Why do I bother, you're sleeping." He grunted as he sat up and pulled a pair of briefs out a drawer beside his bed.

"I'm awake. You stupid droid started complaining 'bout local traffic, so I'm actually awake." The man in the wheelhouse complained through the helmet, evoking a smirk from the Mandalorian.

"You know Chris, you complain too much." Wulfram chuckled into the neck of the helmet before he threw it onto his bunk and stretched out.

"I'll be up in a couple minutes." He finished as he crossed the room and picked up a toothbrush and went through the basic morning routine.

In a state of undress, Wulfram made his way up to the wheelhouse and stared at Chris and Ritz. The lane into Dajorra was backfilled with various freighters and returning warships. The Mandalorian looked at his crewmate and shrugged as he investigated the tail numbers of other nearby vessels and tried to figure out their purpose in the lane.

"Can't think of the last time I saw this many ships backlogged coming into the system. Guess I'll just go clean my armor, I'll start a pot of caf on my way back to bunk. Want any food?" He asked as he scratched his stomach and put a hand up on the bulkhead.

"No, but put some clothes on. I'm really starting to think those Helmet-obsessed zealots have the right idea. Never see them naked, never see their ugly faces. But you, I have to see both. Every. Single. Day." Chris shot back, throwing a stylus at the Mandalorian as he ducked through the bulkhead and cackled down the passageway.

"Feelin's mutual, Imperial scum!" Wulfram laughed back as he ducked into the Galley and punched the caf pot into place and started a fresh pot for the pair of them.

He then ducked back into the passageway and towards his bunk, staring at the helmet on his bunk, the klaxon alarm sounding off again.

"How did I get stuck with this schutta again?" He joked as he slapped the helmet to turn off his alarm.