Milo stood stoically on the pier, seemingly unphased by the light. Milo regretted not wearing the uniform cloak at this point, as he could feel his clothes starting to soak up the rain. As the gangplank slammed down on the plank, Milo's posture tightened, and he stood rigidly, ready to receiver their guest. "Look lively. Our esteemed guest is here." Milo said, sharply. He loathed giving dry orders like that, but he had a job to do, and that was to make the best possible impression on their new guest. However, Milo doubted three rain soaked Scouts would make much of a first impression. Milo had heard tales of the man that was on board the Mackerel. They called him the 'Vulture'. Milo retained his steel-like visage of indifference as he awaited their guest to exit the boat. Milo could hear the rumors of the man as if they were being whispered in his ear at this very moment, all the terrible things this man had accomplished in a short period of time. In his opinion, Milo cared not for the rumors of the man, nor did he care for how vicious the man had been made out to be. He was here to do a job for Arcartus, and Milo would help him along the way anyway he could.