[center][b]Dean Joseph Victoria Harbit[/b][/center]

Dean was the last to arrive at the hangar and subsequently the last to leave.
While in the hangar he refrains from engaging in any conversation with the alien life forms and slowly plots out how he'd manage to get some of the crew to search the vessels for any signs to tie these seemingly independent 'Jedi' as they called themselves to the covenant. In this deep sector of uncharted space, it wasn't a far stretch to tie the locals to being under the influence of the insanity that was the covenant. His eyes continue to flick between the Jedi and their droids. While he imagined the majority of those around him to be interested in the new comers history and culture, he was more interested by what they hid under their robes. It wouldn't be a stretch to assume they were all carrying around high powered weaponry. Hand held plasma weaponry seemed to be at the top of his list of possibilities for their possession.

He barely notices the marine that falls back from his march and takes a look over at him before recognising his facial features. His blank yet thoughtful expression switches instantaneously over to a dirty grin. He feels the privates boot step on his foot and fails to contain his laughter. He wasn't expecting such a fast response and thus, was caught off guard. As the marine starts to jog back in line Dean feels the urge to call out to the sergeant but controls himself in the presence of the foreign ambassadors. Snippets of conversation are picked up through his scheming and the group starts to head to where he believes the mess hall would be. He raises his coloured assault rifle to about waist height before placing his free hand underneath it. He trails a safe two feet behind the group of Spartans and Jedi. As most people upon the Solar Winds could tell, Dean had an unnatural prejudice towards the Spartans and by the looks of it a similar level of disdain for the newly introduced Jedi. Being trapped in a corridor with untested neutral warriors and the UNSC's armies of one was on Dean's list of "Never in my lifetime will I.." Unfortunately for the Captain, these were his orders and so he would obey them despite his personal feelings and inclinations.

The group walk through the strangely empty corridors with zero care factor towards the absence of the crew members who would usually be trying to loiter or frantically pace these communal areas. Dean rationalises this as the hype being tied with the new craft themselves and in turn ignores the lack of those like him. [color=a187be]"Jedi Master Olu Bumdoa was it? I don't ever remember reading about your race in our databases. If you don't mind me asking, could you tell me more about you and your race? I am very curious."[/color] Dean listens in, awaiting a reply. It was awfully rude of him but he was now beginning to realise that he'd zoned out the entire introductions the two groups had shared in the hangar. He practically wasn't there at all with the amount he talked. Although his presence could have helped to add bulk to the introduction comity. "Guess my presence wasn't useless." he mumbles to himself. Dean had an awful habit of losing himself in his thoughts. Hopefully the Jedi wouldn't take offence to his distance or assume his mumbling was at all intended for them.