Given the general technology level of the world they're in, North would have expected all the farming to be automated. And for all he knows, a decent portion of it must be, to feed a ship of this size. But there are still enough tasks to be done by hand that he can spend a relaxing hour or two making himself filthy and pleasantly tired before he goes back to his quarters to shower and get on with his day.

That's about where he's at as he heads out of the habitat deck, grass-stained at the knees of his hard-wearing off-duty trousers and checking his boots for mud when someone ambles by. Someone who's more or less broadcasting her unfamiliarity with the area.

"Morning." He lifts his hand in a quick wave, smiling amicably. "Looking for something?"