[b]"My armor is neutral, representing no affiliation beyond imperial. A change will not be necessary."[/b] Adrianne explained, having shot him a brief glare. Zhevon detected some of it, the hair on the back of his neck standing. He grit his teeth and inhaled sharply, keeping it at a low volume once he realized what he had done.
[b]"As for not scaring any of the local peasantry, I'm afraid I won't be able to help with that. It's sort of a specialty, a natural talent of mine. Comes with the profession."[/b] She spoke up, stepping forwards, [b]"The scrying ritual will take me some time if I am to get any good results. I will therefore start immediately."[/b] She used some sort of telekinesis to grab her staff, [b]"As for leaving the rest of this briefing, do not worry. With so many impressionable, open minds in this room, I might pay you a mental visit during the ritual."[/b]
[b]"Of course."[/b] Zhevon replied, he looked down and tapped a few buttons on his dataslate and the projection shut off. Looking up, he saw Thrallindor coming in saying his list of excuses, when Adrianne walked into the Squat. She cursed and nearly blasted the man, but once she realized who it was, she stopped and stormed off.

Zhevon looked at the others, with the blank face on his helmet, but they could see that his shoulders were raised, as if he was tense. He sighed softly in relief then let his shoulders down.
[b]"We uh, are actually done with the briefing. I never was good with these sort of things."[/b] He said, walking over to Thrallindor, [b]"Here, the briefing is on this sheet as well."[/b] handing the Squat the greensheet. It was essentially a condensed version of the briefing he had just done.

He remembered Stukov's question about backup just then, and turned to him, [b]"Aside from the PDF and various Guard Regiments stationed there, no. However, they should be sufficient if we run into some trouble."[/b] He replied, [b]"Now, I've got something to do. Gregor."[/b] The young trooper woke up from his short nap and scrambled up.
[b]"My personal wardrobe is just down the hall, should be labelled with a large 'Inquisitor Property' sign on it. The first Inquisitor Property sign, the second one is the armory. Don't go into the armory."[/b] He warned. With that, Gregor and Zhevon left the room and talked as they were walking down the hall.

[b]"Take the [i]Unseen Zephyr[/i] and investigate the Guard regiments fighting the Orks. Fight alongside them if you have to. Bring your team, and the second Stormtrooper squad. If anyone asks, you're Ordo Xenos, operating here under the orders of Inquisitor Cattleya, here's her rosette. Go now." [/b]Zhevon said, handing him the blue colored badge. Gregor rose an eyebrow.
[b]"Don't ask how I have it."[/b]
[b]"Right."[/b] Gregor replied teasingly, before jogging down the hall to gather his teams.

Zhevon then turned around and walked to his wardrobe. If someone were particularly perceptive, and looking out a window, they might have been able to spot the black painted Valkyrie with its navigation lights on. Float out of the hanger with engines off, before it disappeared into the black backdrop of space, turning out its navigation lights.

The wardrobe room was fairly large, entire sets of carapace armor of every origin were mounted on mannequins. Coats, pants, and other clothing lined the walls, hanging on coathangers. A small section of the wardrobe had shoes and boots, and an assortment of hats. At the center of the room, benches. Inquisitor Zhevon smiled at his little collection, most of the clothes here were gifts from friends, some enemies.
But he nearly had a heart attack when he spotted the black lingerie laying on one of the benches. He cursed loudly and quickly grabbed them, hastily looking for a place to hide the undergarments before his acolytes entered the room. He settled on emptying a shoebox and placing them in that for the time being.
He searched his memory of who last entered his wardrobe. Personally Zhevon didn't go in here often, usually only to store a piece, and nobody dared to enter a room with 'Inquisitor Property' slapped on it. Unless it was another Inquisitor. He just sat down, placed his face into his palms, and groaned.