Contance's chatter faded into the background as Armas stared in the campfire. A tree made a convenient backrest as he stretched out, taking the load off his injured leg. It had been a long afternoon after they'd gotten the medbay squared away, and he was enjoying the oppurtunity to relax. He raised his tin mug to his lips and took a tip, grimacing slightly at the burn of the rough ship's rum. The UINC rum was the smoothest drink he'd ever had, but it was strong, and the [i]Garrloch[/i] had plenty of it. The spirit was quite useful - helped purify drinking water, improved morale - could even be used as a disinfectant and engine degreaser in a pinch.

They'd made good time steaming towards the island after the plane had gotten back from it's little recon flight. Hollway and the journalist had been moping that they hadn't been allowed to land and check out the island first, and Armas smiled slightly at the memory. He'd ended up part of the work party that had brought the camping gear up from the forward cargo bay, forming a human chain to pile it up on the deck so it could be rowed or flown over the the island. When Conway had finally found a place to anchor for the night they'd starting ferryingover the supplies.

When he got the chance he throw a couple of his things into an old duffle bag and hitched a ride over, helping set up the tents and get the fires started. No way was he going to miss the oppurtunity to spend his first night beyond the storms camping on an actual undiscovered island. He'd already taken a quick walk up and down the beach, picking up a small handful of shells and rocks and chucking them in the side pocket of his duffel - his cousins and siblings back home would go spare for an authentic beyond-the-storms rock, even if it did look like every other pebble he'd ever seen.

[b]“—Did any of you hear that?”[/b] Edward said suddenly.

Armas perked his head up at the journalist's words, ignoring Constances caustic response. The second snap was louder, closer, and Constace was on her feet in an instant, [b] “Holy-shit-did-anyone-hear-that-there’s-something-there-what-the-hell-is-out-there?”[/b].

Armas peered into the darkness around the campsite, but couldn't see anything beyond the ring of light cast by the flames. Luna was on her feet as well, and the two women started walking in the direction of the noise. The pilot, who Armas had learnt was called Krauss, sighed and started to follow them [b]"Ugh... Those fools.... Well we'd better not be left behind, right fellas?" [/b].

[b]"Bad show losing the nurse on our first night out"[/b] Armas agreed, levering himself up off the ground. He finished his drink with a swig and dropped the mug back to the ground. He picked up one of the lanterns that had been strung up around their little makeshift campsite and followed the small party into the darkness.

The noise was probably just the local equivelant of a possum  - the soldiers had already done their sweep of the land around the beach and hadn't found anything suspicious or dangerous looking. But there was always the chance that there was a nocturnal beastie with a taste for slightly tipsy sailors.

With his longer legs he soon caught up the the two women, the lantern casting a dim glow around them as they left the firelight behind. He took a moment to get his bearings - he also wanted to be sure they could find the bloody campsite again.

[b]"So what's the bet?"[/b] he asked quietly, [b]"Nothing, possum, wild dog, cannibal?"[/b]