The nudge got his attention, and Stukov glanced over and barely was able to stop himself from double taking. Apparently going from an armored battle suit, thing, whatever the hell Smiles called her usual attire to formal wear was quite the jarring shift. But officers also liked to traipse around in fancy garb when off duty, so he had experience enough in not double taking or ogling the women folk when they were in fancy formal wear. Especially since the officers wouldn't take kindly to such things and he had heard horror stories of absolute alpha bitches that would have otherwise innocent Armsman and crew executed for not being formal enough around them. Never made sense to him, really, but he was not going to address that little problem here or now. Instead he chuckled at her comment on his attire, and promptly hated the grating mechanical noise it made. Great.

[b][color=9e0b0f]"Your one to talk, Smiles. If my garb is impressive, yours is a show stopper."[/color][/b] Unlike Smiles, who had taken to calling him apprentice, Stukov was not going to change his habits that readily. Besides, he called no man or woman his master. Sir, Ma'am, or Boss. Those were the big three, but there was only one being he would ever bend a knee to, and he was orbiting a distant star. But his train of thought digressed, and when offered the wooden case, shaped like a casket, he took it with a cocked eyebrow of curiosity. As she explained its contents, he opened up the casket to look at the blade itself.

Saber, popular among officers, Naval and, from what he was told, cavalry especially, almost always power weapons. Granted, in this case, it was the psyker variant. Her old force blade, eh? Holding the sheath, he flicked his wrist forward, propelling the blade out into his waiting hand and examined the blade. Blue pattern, crystalline of some sort or another, otherwise indistinguishable from a well made sword. He could feel sympathetic resonations from the blade's construction back through him, but it wasn't [i]quite[/i] right. Probably since it wasn't built for him, it wouldn't quite match. Then again, hell if he knew how this tech sorcery of a blade worked, so the fact it hadn't blown up in his face was progress enough for him.

Sheathing the blade with a nod of approval, he hooked it onto his belt, above his left hip to promote a cross draw should he need to produce the blade in a fight. Looking over himself, he snorted in disbelief before commenting idly, to no one in particular at first. [b][color=9e0b0f]"Emperor preserve me, I could readily pass for a damned Officer. Minus the pay."[/color][/b] Seated in the transport, which he would have preferred been flying to some degree, his arms crossed over the matte black coat he wore, noting the attire of the others as well. Pretty much everyone was better dressed than him, which was how it should be in Stukov's mind. He was a grunt, no need for over fancy attire. Yet here he was, sitting in what would pass for an Officer's attire. He could cover as a Naval attache of sorts, perhaps. That might work, considering what he knew about void work. Glancing at Smiles again, he half closed his eyes and rested his head back against the transport hull. [b][color=9e0b0f]"Alright Smiles, I'm assuming the blade feels slightly off since it wasn't made for me in specific? That, and for having your attire picked out by Sororitas, you'll stand out more so than the rest of us combined."[/color][/b]