[What she wouldn't give for a pulse pistol right about now--

John's voice, though, is a close second. The fact that he wanders in close shifts the crowd enough to give her space; turns them on him instead which admittedly won't do a weary looking John Crichton any favors.

Still, there's a huffed out sigh of relief.] Oh thank god. I've been working at the comm for arns - no one's responding and I can't tell if it's broken or if Chiana's been ignoring me again.

Shoo. Shoo, all of you! [Without anything in hand, they hardly seem to notice her as they paw hungrily at John.]