[hr][hr][center][h1][i][b][color=b8860b]Reginald Keystone[/color][/b][/i][/h1]
[img]http://33.media.tumblr.com/76ca11af5771405a055ca9291e9e4b2b/tumblr_nvhilyU39J1qcxymno4_500.gif[/img][/center]
[hr][center][color=b8860b][b]Location:[/b][/color] Qasr El Nil Barracks (Officers' Club)
[color=b8860b][b]Skills:[/b][/color] N/A [/center][hr][hr]

	The relation of the story of Peter, from the point of view of George Benaszewski, was bittersweet. As much a source of pride to the Lord Major as it was a thing which cut him to his very core. This was a side of his dear nephew that he knew was in there; the bravery and compassion, that which was best in all men but rarely shown. Reginald was upset that he never got to see this level of decency and personal heroism himself, but he knew it was in the boy. 

	Carefully, Reginald picked up the chunk of oddly shaped metal. It was the reason that he required the use of a cane - hobbled for life - and yet symbolic of the depth of character possessed by the man. Pride would have had the Lord Major tout the superior character and noble bearing of the Keystone lineage, which he was almost tempted to say aloud, but the idea died away quickly. His actions were his own, his decisions a product of his own mettle. Reginald raised his glass and gave solemn agreement to George, describing him as the bravest man that he ever knew, and whispered, [color=b8860b]"Indeed, sir. Peter Keystone."[/color] He took a healthy swallow of his whisky an set the glass back upon the table. 

	Reginald splashed another dram of the smoky amber fluid into his glass and George's, inquiring of him, [color=b8860b]"Where do your duties take you next, Mr. Benaszewski?"[/color]