Saturday is coming in from a surreptitious smoke, trailing tobacco smell behind her, when she sees yet another unreasonably large dude wandering around the rig, looking dazed the way everyone does once they've been unleashed from intake's gentle clutches. She hasn't been sleeping well herself, and while Guts claims the cigarette smoke doesn't wake him up, she also doesn't believe him. And anyway, upstairs in the fresh air is better than down here in recirculated.

So she steps up to where he can see her, waving.

"Hey. New here?"

Saturday is very small five feet one inch - and very densely muscled. He may see pointed ears under her mop of black hair, but her height and her face - strong bones, not delicate - argue against her being the kind of elf he's familiar with. That, and she isn't insulting anyone or trying to murder them.

"I'm Saturday."