Advantages of being a pilot: Gladio got to decided when he made trips, and he had some control over it. It was nice, because that wasn't the usual thing for him back home. Other advantage? So much leg space.

Once Gladio had the information punched in for where they were going, he leaned back in his chair, kicked his feet up on a bare spot on the console, and tucked his arms behind his head. Yeah, this was the life.

"Hey," he said, even as he heard the door to the cockpit sliding open. "Here for the view? Or to plan?"

There they were. It had taken hours for the group to get close enough while in cover to consider their prey. And while they weren't as big as a bunnyboar, Gladio knew they were still a bit large. Good thing he knew that most of those with him had absolutely no issues with the idea of going after something big.

"Better to respect the proper order of things. Check the edges of the herd for things that look injured. Not sick. No guarantee we can't catch what they've got. But older or younger or injured, that's good targets. Still, gotta remember, we're trying to drive them toward the hangar."

Which would probably not work out well, but hey, he was hoping. Protein was useful.

"There," he said at last, pointing. "You ready?"

"Can't get over how ugly they are."

Gladio sat on the far side of the hold, just plonked down on the stairs that would take him to the dorm and the other useful rooms, watching. The Bantha were too large to make their way up these things, but he was still watching them curiously.

"Almost look like they are used to this shit," he observes, frowning, as he shovels as spoonful of chili protein paste into his mouth. "Maybe they're like the glownies, a friendly little species. Ain't as much like Garula as I thought."