[color=f7941d][h1][center][b][u]Gaelic "Ragin' Cajun" Grayeson[/u][/b][/center][/h1][/color]

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*POP, POP, POP* The quick flick of his wrist allowed the snuff-tin in his hand to pack the moist dip nice and tight. A few moments later, he popped the top of the tin and inhaled the minty smell of wintergreen. Taking a pinch, he packed the slivers of tobacco into his lips and closed the container; placing it in his trousers' back pocket. A plastic bottle in hand, he spat inside as he continued making his way through the corridors of the ship. Though advanced in comparison to every other vessel on the planet, it still lacked the luxury of being outside in the open air. Turning down another passageway, he started up the bulkhead and towards the bridge of their "magnificent" vessel into unknown territories. Over the communication-link, pretty much wired to his wrist, he listened as the others of the crew checked in with the Command Deck. Though he hadn't started his part of the journey, as they were currently submerged underwater; Gaelic knew he needed to check the systems for space flight. Space Flight... in a submarine? The original idea caused him to almost kill-over from laughter, but when the talk of the revolutionary engines were involved; his attention was focused.

[b][color=8dc73f]"This is the Astro-Navigator, still need to do a systems check on the interstellar engines. I'm on my way to do so."[/color][/b] he replied into the communicator, hoping they'd shut up.