[center][h2][color=BC8F8F]Gera Zsoldos - Pilot[/color][/h2][/center]

Gera’s lips twinged into an even wider smirk, his eyes blazing with both impish mirth and a sort of haughty pride. [color=BC8F8F]“They picked me for this job for a reason. I’m going to be the best god damned co-pilot you’ll ever fly with, so I trust you’ll be the best you can for me and this crew too.”[/color] There was a brief pause, then, under his breath, [color=BC8F8F]“Such as it is.”[/color] Deigning then to survey the slowly growing hodgepodge of individuals, and it was, indeed, a hodgepodge, Gera began to frown. The vast majority of individuals seemed wildly antisocial. At the very least, he was the only one that chose not to ignore Miora, and he had only heard the last bit of her speech himself. 

There was the short fellow that looked like someone slapped a uniform on a medieval viking, who hadn’t said a single word yet. Then there was the guy wearing a seriously outdated military uniform, which Gera decided must have been from some sort of costume store, no way people still made those things new. What was [i]he[/i] doing anyways? Sleeping? There was the scary looking duffle bag guy with the prosthetic, he hadn’t said anything either. There was the scholarly looking girl standing apart from the others, just like duffle bag guy, and [i]she[/i] hadn’t said anything. There was the freaking titan military officer dude with less emotions than a robot, and… what the fuck was wrong with that last woman? Gera couldn’t believe his eyes. Were those… plushies? And what was with that sociopath giggle? Seriously… the [i]fuck[/i]?

Gera managed to avert his eyes away from the horrors before him, choosing instead to rest his gaze on Miora and the ship. [color=BC8F8F]“So… it’s pretty impressive, huh?”[/color]

[center][h2][color=2F4F4F]Anton Kyznetsov - Doctor[/color][/h2][/center]

Anton continued surveying the room, making a mental catalog of the names he knew and the apparent characteristics of each group member, name or no name. A few of the assorted individuals here worried him. There were the two pilots, thick as thieves with their knowing glances and arrogance, who Anton hoped would treat everyone fairly when giving orders. Besides them, however, the only other cause for alarm seemed to be the girl rocking around for seemingly no reason. Anton was comforted by the fact that there was no way the GC would have let someone with a history of mental illnesses onto this mission. But the plushies? They reminded Anton of Gabriel at a much younger age. Needless to say, he was baffled.

With that course of action completed, the next logical step was to find someone to talk to. He ended up approaching the clearly nervous individual, who looked like they could use some calming words to ease their nerves. It took only a few long strides to reach her. Putting down the duffle bag weighing down his left hand, he then extended it towards the girl. He had no way of telling if she had experience with prosthetic users, best to play it safe. [color=2F4F4F]“I’m Anton, the designated medical professional for the duration of the expedition. Who might you be?”[/color] His voice was low, though it resonated and carried depth. 

[center][h2][color=8FBC8F]Royland Asterwick - Corporal[/color][/h2][/center]

So that was the ship. That was a nice ship. Royland was pleased that that the ship he was to be riding in was at least an impressive one. You had to count your blessings, especially when they came in limited supply. This was definitely a good omen for the success of this operation. The fact that his entire family might be at risk? Not really such a good omen, more of a bad one, all things considered. But this? Good omen. Besides, everyone knew that good omens could be more potent than bad omens, and boy did Royland know his omens. He hoped that the crew running the ship and the passengers being transported on the ship would be as great as the ship itself.

Yes, once Royland had hopes. Now that he was closer to the group, he wasn’t so sure. They mostly seemed… okay? Some of them had interesting choices of dress, that was fine. There was also the matter of the crazy looking girl with the stuffed animals. That was perfectly fine too, being a bit childish didn’t necessarily mean she couldn’t do her job. What worried Royland was the feeling of unity throughout the group, or rather, the complete lack of it. If push came to shove, would these people work together? And who really had whom’s back? Royland felt a single shiver go down his spine. Bad omen.