She's handed what feels like a rarity. Transparency touched by melancholy; one she feels she has not yet earned. A friend no longer present, and the emptiness that friend's leaving carves out in the man's chest, now exposed for her to see. Ripley listens carefully. Trains her eyes on Gaeta's face and takes in his every word. He deserves that much.

"A spacer. Is that what we're called around here? I wouldn't have thought to categorize us any differently. You learn fast that not everyone's got years of space travel under their belt."

Some days it's impossible to think of this place as home. Most days she mourns those few places she could call home. None of it salvageable. Here, she's floating. Inert.

...A little less-so now that she's made a new acquaintance.

And despite that sinking dread of belonging nowhere— so dissimilar to the kind of nowhere one experiences in space— Ripley smiles, soft around otherwise sharped edges, determined most of all. "Likewise. And— thank you. For helping me in the— ah, you know. You could have walked right past me, but you didn't. I won't forget that."