So it turns out that the wall i was beating my head against was one of the ones to Nova’s meeting room! I had juuust enough functioning brain cells left to understand what was being said, through the unintentional crack i opened up; it sounds like the commanders want to give your rocket launcher to Ernest, Benny. Something about how the Battleborn don’t need TWO ordinance-firing aviants, because it’s a “conflict of interest”.
Cheer up, though; there’s always Minrec!
-sways drunkenly as blood trickles from nose-
Be reborn as… A neurosurgeon!