Specter draws a record from the record box and puts it on the gramophone, and melodious music arises. She has no missions today. The only thing she needs to do is let herself relax, place herself into the best possible state to be thrown into the next mission, the next battle. The record is a masterpiece of the Iberian Golden Age, bought by her off an Iberian operator's hands. Specter closes her eyes, lets herself sink into the sofa, and enjoys it in stillness. She couldn't tell you a thing about what accomplishments marked Iberia's Golden Age, but she can sense from the music the splendor of that age, and how its people must have been so proud of their successes. It's not godawful at all, she concedes. She never masks her disdain for the glories of dry land's culture, but she has no intents of applying that prejudice to the arts— Yes. Prejudice. She even admits as much to the Doctor, while continuing on her merry way. But her insistence isn't without meaning. Besides, she believes that while her and the Captain seem to have it in common, there's actually quite the distinction. The Captain's arrogance comes from that good old Captain purview of Chief Designer. But she—she thinks—she doesn't care where her power comes from, and she's passionate about what undertakings she has these days. But still, sometimes she can't help but wonder—how has that statue in her hometown ended up? How about her hometown itself? The music comes to a crackling halt. Laurentina opens her eyes, and what gradually seeps into view is her familiar ceiling. She knows, terrifyingly, she'll get even more used to this environment in time. She's not panicked about it. In order to panic in a new environment, you need to not want to leave the old one, but she's practically forgotten just how her life in Ægir felt to live. From the record box she now pulls a sawblade, and gently wipes over it, swapping for a new record to continue playing all the while. Maybe, just as the Iberians used all the methods under the sun to record their Golden Age, she can try and get back into her once most beloved activity—sculpting. Her one stroke of luck: she might just be stuck away from home for a good while longer. She still has enough time to remember how it looked, she thinks, with no lack of self-mocking irony.