Mech Pilot who downloads a little jingle to play when the core ejection alert goes off.
"What is that horrible racket, Frenchie?! Turm that off at once!"
"Mon capitaine, I did not see you there. Mes excuses."
The ghastly noise disappeared, and silence returned to the mech bay, only interrupted by the familiar, comforting hiss of exchanging gasses keeping them alive.
"The fuck was that? Another of Bloodfist's terrible gory 'funny' videos of a poor sentient being maimed or killed? Something involving an industrial blender, by the sound of it? Do I need to have another word with him about what's appropriate for sharing on the ship's network?"
The pilot known as Frenchie flapped her hands, a tiny flock of startled birds trying to ward off another legendary clash on board. Not because of her. Anything but that! "Non, non, non, capitaine. Bloodfist is, as they say, innocent this time. It was all my fault. Désolée."
She could see exactly how much her CO believed her, which was not a whit. Not that she could blame her. Ever since she'd joined the company last year, straight off the final ship of evacuees to escape the destruction of Dernière Dernière Nouvelle Nouvelle Orléans, at least 90% of company incidents had Bloodfist's fingerprints on them somewhere.
Laurette "Frenchie" Bouchez on the other hand had desperately tried her hardest to fit in, to be accepted. Always ready to help out. To rebuild something like a family. A home. A place to belong, after losing everything. She sighed softly, hands wringing in distress. Hopefully she hadn't just ruined that.
"I was thinking of..." Gods, this was going to sound so stupid. "... increasing la sûreté - safety's for ma fa—my friends. In case something happens. To me. My mech.*
The captain's left eyebrow hiked all the way up. Given what she'd just heard, this should be good. "Okaaay..." Still, this was Frenchie. How bad could it be?
"I went looking for a a a warning sound for if my engine core gets éjecté, so people know to get away, not get caught in l'explosion."
So far, so good. The captain's face remained open and interested. Even approving.
Laurette swallowed and suddenly couldn't get her words out fast enough. "... so I wanted to find something that would tell them it was... me, and Liz and the other Brittannians mostly call me Frog instead of Frenchie, and this was one of the results."
The captain's face was a study in contrasts. She obviously wanted to dig down on this blatant disrespect within the ranks for one of her hardest workers... but her pure flabbergasted curiosity won in the end. "What the fuck was it called that you got that result?"
Wordlessly, Laurette turned her tablet so the other woman could read the words 'Crazy Frog Engine Noise'