Wilson made his way to the bridge of the ship and flopped down into the seat in front of the controls. He stared at the controls which seemed slightly odd and alien to him, not that it was surprising really, nor would it be too much of a problem. Sure, most pilots liked to leave most of the work to the auto-pilot if possible and just hit the occasional flashing button as long as they were just in basic travel but he liked to do everything manually, it gave him more time to understand the ship and it's controls, and less of a margin to make errors if and when things become serious. With that factored in, this vessel would be obeying his every command in no time.
After a couple more minutes looking over the many buttons and do dads, he remembered that he'd need to change to something less official and went to hop out of his seat and find his locker, it was then that he paused and realised he had not shaved or gotten a hair cut before arriving, and looked rather unkempt, not at all like a federation pilot. A smirk spread across his face as he felt that, given the mission, this was more of a blessing than anything, before continuing to search for the lockers.