Tell Me Why, Baloo

Intrigued by that goading statement, Baloo lumbered into the wheelhouse behind the young outlaw.

The lizard man's eyes darted all about. His orange-yellow pupils scanned the helm with increasing fascination. The peculiar radar screen was totally foreign to him, along with the many other instruments embedded into the ship's wide dashboard. 

"Poke your head down here if you don't believe me," Ayse mentioned with a waving hand.

Baloo did just that. But he didn't move away from the final step on the stairway. That was the only way to guarantee that Baloo's head had clearance and his shoulders didn't scrape against the ceiling. 

LaRee stepped out of the storage room with the electric burner and a small, folding table fitted for a quick game of cards. "What about the gift–"

"Just get the burner and table set up," Ayse cut the archer off, slapping the body bag atop his Ayse's shoulder. "I'll be up in a few. Just let me refuel and put this shit away."