fluttering of his protected wings, and a twitch of his blubber-swaddled tail.

At once,
the official let out a very unofficial moo, jumping off of his mattress-soft cushion and turning
to address it. "Oh! Geez, sorry, pal," he stammered, scratching the nape of his neck with a
hoof. "Thought you were --" The bovid stopped himself, realizing he'd just been talking
directly to Russel's backside. Coughing in an attempt to expel the embarrassment from his
body, he began a long, awkward shuffle around the moth to address him properly.
"L-Like I was saying… sorry for sitting on you! You looked a bit like one of our cargo
crates… I was wondering where you'd gone off to! Figured you snuck out of the hatch or
something." The cow extended a handdealing with. With gritted teeth, the bull - whose
nametag read "Allegro" - carried on. "Glad to see you're still around, though! Whew, how's
about we set you up somewhere a bit comfier, now that you're up and about?"
"Sounds like a plan!" sang Russel with his Viennese cadence. "How long is the ride
going to be?"
"Should only be an hour or so left - you just slept through the longest stretch of the
ride." Allegro chuckled, slapping a wall-installed button to force the automated open.
The bull walked backwards through the wide portal in a single bound, beckoning
Russel to follow. This was a command easier said than done; taking that first solitary step
taxed every last reserve of the insectoid's energy reserves, from his pillowy neck to his pudgy
soles. Discarded tools rattled and hopped as his first footstep commenced, to say nothing of
his mesmerizing folds. Though held close to hiscondensed on his space-grade visor. The
combined insulation of his sauce-spattered suit and solid yard of wobbly fat ensured no
physical harm came to the bloated bug, though instinctive shock was unpreventable.
Russel yelped, bringing his cylindrical arms up to shield his already-shielded face, and took a
panicked step backwards. Soon after, his hard-earned stability faltered; with a secondary
chitter of distress, the meteoric moth came, which Russel grasped with hestiance. Beneath his
assistant's nano-weave shirt, reassuring muscles strained and flexed with the effort expended;
after a time, Russel was back on his feet, leaning against the huffing and puffing bull to shirk
some of the load his feet were dealing with. With gritted teeth, the bull - whose nametag read
"Allegro" - carried on. "Glad to see you're still around, though! Whew, how's about we set
you up somewhere a bit comfier, now that you're up and about