Sump Outlet (gross):
At first, for the most part the only portion of Galo that was visible was about half their face; faded pink hair cut to jaw length, thin lipped, but with pleasant enough features for a woman, albeit rather scruffy for Yamataian standards. The interior bulkhead was still shut tight, seemingly waiting for those in the armor team coming in to enter. Once they had made their decisions on that matter, the interior door did slide open to reveal a dank and for the most part unlit hallway.
The walls and decks covered in uneven layers of indecipherable graffiti. About a half dozen souls clad in voidwalker suits were peering around corners and out of hatches to look at the newcomers. A couple of them small enough to be children. Galo herself seemed to be the only one standing without one, which was rather remarkable considering the amount of radiation the station seemed to be leaking to its internals.
She was quite tall, sporting a reactor tan and a few chemical stains to her skin. Heavy cargo pants with some sort of work belt, slung low on her waist and sporting various tools. Some garment like a one-piece swimsuit worn underneath them, cut high enough to reveal a little hip. A walking cane was propped against one leg for her one functioning arm was busy extracting some sort of syringe from her belt. For some reason her right arm was in a sling.
"I don't feckin' know." She said, jabbing the syringe into her leg and injecting something "We cannae eat ice cream, 't gives us t'e gutflush. We c'n still fire up t' fabricators fer it should i' mean ye won't get t' blood rage."
She took a few limping steps, first throwing the emptied syringe to smash on the floor of the garbage sump; freeing up her good arm for the cane so she could take those steps.
"We're a supply depot. Markets're on deck five, 's also clear'a radiation. Look out fer th' flowers on t' walls, means 's safe fer ye." She said, sounding cold, limping through the muck to hold her face within half an inch of Mat's faceplate "An' don't give me t'e shite 'bout bein' sorry fer ye doin' y' orders. Yer a loyal son o' t' empire. Ye'd willin'ly kill ev'ry man, woman an' child 'ere if it were told 'tis yer duty. Prob'ly sleep like a bairn too... Yer a trained killer workin' fer monsters. Don'tchye dare preten' ot'erwise in my presence."
The limping 'spacer took a step back, raising the cane to indicate a camera in the corner of the airlock.
"Footage a' ev'rytin' yer doin' is bein' broadcast out t' eyes in DION's senate. Yer in diplomatic incident territ'ry now. Slip up now an' yer givin' Nepleslia cause tae side wi' Kuvex..."
Galo turned back to the station, limping out and standing a few paces ahead of the boarding team. Oddly enough not bothering to wipe her own boots.
"So by all means," She said over her shoulder, dropping the accent to talk slowly once more, "Enjoy our markets on deck five. We got souvenirs, snacks, scrap, clothes, an' electronic goods fer sale. Y' c'n even buy y' ice cream. Treat yerself ta our recreational VR resorts. After all, yer guests in our home, an' surely not armed strangers here 'gainst our will in t' halls where our children play."