[hr][hr][center][h1][i][b][color=b8860b]Reginald Keystone[/color][/b][/i][/h1]
[img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/bded91a9-c816-490a-8fb9-8745db8e4e8e.jpg[/img][/center]
[hr][center][color=darkgoldenrod][b]Location:[/b][/color] The Ferry (Elite Deck -> 2nd -> Main Deck)
[color=b8860b][b]Skills:[/b][/color] N/A [/center][hr][hr]

	There was no small amount of gratitude to the fates, or the stars, or the God which proper Anglicans gave weekly worship for the delivery of Vera from the grip of the Nile. The ancient river was notorious as both the giver and taker of life, possibly gifted with a deliberate intelligence of that which it claimed in exchange for single-handedly allowing civilization to exist in the middle of this otherwise unfathomable desert, aptly named "Sahara" by the locals. It almost seemed fair sometimes. But not on this evening, and not if the life claimed was the Lady Vera Munn. Such a thing simply would not do. 

	Being that Reginald was a man who had, admittedly, thickened and greyed with age, he was still able to move with enough urgency to cause for a sort of parting of persons in front of him. The fact that he was traveling [i]down[/i] the stairs and not up them made the trip easier. Considering the haste with which he moved and tiny details such as his oft troublesome sword scabbard and moderate amount of alcohol that he had consumed prior to the emergency, the casual use of the word "trip" was perhaps one he would have avoided, were he to voice his own opinion of the situation. Nevertheless, he proceeded as solidly as his advancing years and state of drunkenness might allow, which again was rather impressive in a man who was obviously in the autumn years of his life. 

	His ticket in hand, Reginald sped down two flights of stairs in his quest for the Cargo Hold, certain that he would be remembered and that the booklet containing it was open to the right spot. No one seemed to challenge his movement, and so he continued ever onward. Such was the prerogative of the Lord Major. 



[hr][hr][center][h1][i][b][color=bdb76b]Haring Reddish[/color][/b][/i][/h1]
[img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/2ea491d2-5414-4af6-8fc2-9832160a5d6a.jpg[/img][/center]
[hr][center][color=darkkhaki][b]Location:[/b][/color] The Ferry (Elite Deck, Josephine's Stateroom)
[color=bdb76b][b]Skills:[/b][/color] N/A [/center][hr][hr]

	Within the stateroom of the irrepressible Josephine Clark, a highly unlikely companion for the young starlet set about attempting to pull his foot from his mouth, or so he assumed he must, for a lack of situational propriety. It was occasionally a curse of his people to simultaneously wish for abruptness and subtlety simultaneously, and then to apologize profusely when it could not be achieved. It was not indecisiveness nor cowardice on his part, quiet the opposite in fact. "Manners Maketh Man", or so the saying went, and the proper application of them at the right time showed just exactly the courage necessary to stay upon the path of an honorable man, regardless of the cost to himself socially. 

	But yes, mostly at the commentary concerning the modelling one of the starlet's items of nightwear by the young woman. It was a breach of gentlemanly etiquette, or something that strayed too close to it for Reddish's comfort. Far be it for he to be lumped into the gaggle of others who viewed Josephine purely by the roles she tended to play on the silver screen. He did not press the matter further than his assertion that, upon the lady's request, he would give her the gift of his absence as soon as the emergency was over and she was relatively safe. Until that time however, the stalwart Corporal made good use of the time provided, and hovered over the mark upon the floor with the intent to examine for any further detail that might shed some light on the invasion of the stateroom. 

	[color=bdb76b]"Ah, Miss Clarke? Should you still wish to inform me, madame, have you any luck determining the identity of the absent mystery item?"[/color]