Transcription

[[A Grey drone stands behind a counter, and in front of shelves loaded with alien hardware (and a couple of "in joke" items...). Behind him and through an open archway is a room full of shelves, also loaded full of items of some sort. He turns in response to a voice from off panel.]]
Voice: Hey, you! Alien guy! Are you the "quartermeister?"

[[The angle shifts to show that the voice was Trudy's, and we see her holding a bundle of clothing as she approaches the counter. She's obviously frustrated, a woman on a mission.]]
Grey: If you mean "Quartermaster", yes, that is my current function. I am drone #89875517, but you may call me "Coulomb".
Trudy: "Cologne", right, whatever.

Trudy: [holding up a corner of the bundle she's carrying] Look, I'm getting sick and tired of these blasted jumpsuits. They all look the same: Gray, dull, and formless. I can't stand wearing the same blasted thing day in and day out!

Trudy: [leaning in closer to Coulomb] Can't we have something a bit more... fashionable? We need a bit more color around here!
Coulomb: [confused] You... want me to adjust the chromatic reflection spectra of the fabric?