[hr][hr][center][h1][i][b][color=b8860b]Reginald Keystone[/color][/b][/i][/h1]
[img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/3239da2d-aeb9-49eb-abf8-d7d6b44a7527.jpg[/img][/center]
[hr][center][color=darkgoldenrod][b]Location:[/b][/color] The Ferry (Cargo -> Lower Deck -> Main Deck)
[color=b8860b][b]Skills:[/b][/color] N/A [/center][hr][hr]

	There was a moment of strange objectivity as Reginald turned to Gene. He had a curious look to his face; not a look that was, in and of itself a curiosity, but one that implied a sense of curiousness to the man. He frowned and shook his head, trying not to dwell upon the negativity that she was attempting to shovel upon the situation. Another item that gave him pause was that George hadn't said a single word, nor offered a facial expression that he had noticed about his sister's commentary. He must be accustomed to it, by this point, in the same way that the Lord Major had simply grown accustomed to the antics of his Corporal. Annoying but ultimately harmless. 

	He accepted the handshake of the young American, answering his minor piece of self-depreciation with something more positive. [color=b8860b]"No no, the pleasure is mine Mr. um, Mr. 'C'. And never you mind, I've simply the utmost for the Colonials, you see. Most of them, at any rate. Impulsive lot. Garrulous at times. But a fine people all in all. I owe you a debt, sir, in the form of fine whisky. If you and your fellow doughboy, Mr. Benaszewski, would be as kind as to join, I should like to have us military men toast to our fortunes."[/color] He looked to the retreating form of Mahendra, [color=b8860b]"I believe that he served in our eastern divisions, once upon a time..."[/color] 

	He shook his head, wondering how many of the men in or around the Fellowship had military backgrounds. It would make sense; after the Great War, foreigners (which included himself) who were acclimated to the region and had passable grasp on culture and language, let alone wanted to be there on an extended basis came there originally because of armed service to their countries. The Americans and the long reach of the British Empire surely made up a good amount of those kids of people. And the French, but he preferred not to dwell upon them too much. 

	Further thought in the short couple of seconds he devoted to it had him realizing that the high majority of the women in their Fellowship were of the intellectual sort, which also made sense for foreign [i]women[/i] in the region. Military men, intellectual women. There seemed a predetermined division of tasks in that combination. He shrugged it off, confident that the group would continue to operate with the relative organization that it had thusfar, where they trusted the resources and abilities of the individual's areas of expertise as it came up, regardless of other factors present. It worked for them. [color=b8860b]"Well, nightcaps from my personal reserve - George, J.C. - I shall be in my Stateroom."[/color] The point for his presence was pretty moot, as the men already there had seen to the safety of his people. He could at least express his gratitude.  

	Reginald kept up with the rest of the group leaving Cargo, attentive to any further pieces of dialogue that required his attention. He showed his ticket again as needed, ascended the stairs that too him closer to his own quarters. He was eager to have the day finished now that everyone was accounted for, and likewise eager to begin the next day addressing their issues of theft and entry.  




[hr][hr][center][h1][i][b][color=bdb76b]Haring Reddish[/color][/b][/i][/h1]
[img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/0601b69e-741d-4a58-84ce-2a2d876a43a3.gif[/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]

	Reddish tensed a little as Josephine returned his physical expression of comfort. He hadn't [i]not[/i] been expecting it, though it was still a bit surprising. After all, she was a Name. Reddish was a soldier, and something of a servant at that. Hell, he was still amazed that she acquiesced to taking a walk with him, or posing for a picture. Still, the tiniest bit of guilt was nagging at him. She was somewhat emotionally compromised, and while his intentions were, at the moment, purely supportive, he felt like he might be inadvertently taking advantage somehow. The feeling intensified as, in their closeness, Reddish caught the scent of the young woman's hair. 

	[color=bdb76b]"Oh [i]absolutely[/i], Miss Clarke."[/color] he agreed with hushed voice, relaxing the pressure of his arms about her but keeping hold of her figure. [color=bdb76b]"You've every right to be angry, of course. Now, you mustn't put a thought into what burdens me, ma'am. Not at all. My affairs would have us checking my quarters below, and I can assure you that most anything that would have been taken from there can be replaced from general inventory in Cargo."[/color] It wasn't an entirely true statement, he did have one thing of a personal nature in his quarters, be it a trifle of an object. But the rest of his belongings were military issue. Or clothes, with minimal civilian attire. 

	Going out on a limb, he reasoned, [color=bdb76b]"I'd rather not leave you to your lonesome in a room that had been recently burgled, ma'am, unless you tell me directly to sod off. Nor do I wish to do anything that puts me in a state of impropriety, [i]especially[/i] with someone such as yourself. So I am perfectly content to submit myself to your wishes, even if it means we sit right here for the foreseeable evening whilst you take rest upon my shoulder. I am at your order, Miss Clarke."[/color]