Elysa eyed the older woman, her steely glare speaking volumes. It was true the last pilot to fly the Huria hadn't been Elysa's personal choice, a greasy, mysoginistic creep she had been happy to see the back of. However true it may have been, it didn't mean that she was completely convinced of Munroe's superiority over her predecessor.
"You are needin' permission. Any changes you want to be makin' go through me or Bryce." She lay down the law; all the vulnerability and compassion she had shown Aurora earlier had vanished. "I want ship's mechanic goin' over everything you've touched."
She stood up, better to assert her authority. It was a tactic she had seen Brent use before, and though she hated the similarities, she had seen for herself that it usually got results. "Sure you've kept us in the air so far, but there's a dozen pilots out there lookin' to fill your quarters in a heartbeat." She wasn't exactly sure if that last statement were true, but at least it sounded impressive.
"You mayn't be used to takin' orders, but round here we've a way of doing things. It's called 'my way'. You best be learnin' that." None of her statements were delivered in anger. Just authority. She could sense a danger in Munroe, a challenge that needed to be stamped out before it surfaced.