[center][h3][color=00aeef]Buurenaar D'ordinii[/color][/h3][/center]
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Buurenaar, often shortened to Buure [boo-REY], by those familiar with his work. He's never seemed to care what he's called. No one who knows him well enough to tell is willing to share. In all honesty, the few who knew were probably in a much darker region of the galaxy working hard to help the aliit prosper. Buure had been tasked with a different job, and though it was a lonely existence, he didn't mind. He was able to communicate via recorded data packets, though they were slow to reach their recipient at times. It was a comfort of it's own to simply know that he would be reunited with them eventually, even if only in Manda. He finished stowing his gear in his locker, as he read the latest such message. His podmates had just finished an underwater salvage. It had been fairly straight forward, though local wildlife had proven particularly... entertaining. 

He felt proud of his siblings, and was pleased that their prowess and skill was both acknowledged and put to good use. He headed towards the cargo hold to check on the last of his gear. It was a personal submersible, and he wanted to be sure it was stowed and secured properly. Aruetii rarely cared for their gear properly, in his experience. He hadn't linked his comm to the ship's system yet, so the call about a stow away was missed completely. He thought he saw one of the crew rushing towards the hold, but he wasn't sure. He continued on his way, unhurried since there wasn't an alarm. 

He arrived, and stepped into a dark hold, which seemed odd but was in no way uncomfortable to him. His visor showed him everything in dim outlines. Line of sight was no limitation for him at all, since his beskar'gam made use of something akin to echo-location in addition to thermal imaging, low light filter, and a mass spectrometer. He could see through most of the cargo canisters both inside and behind them, though inside took focus. He let his gaze sweep across the room, though it paused on a couple of beings towards the back. A moment later the shape of another crouched in front of them became apparent, and Buure moved towards them. He kept his pace measured and a tad brisk, his boots hitting the deck with force enough to be heard clearly by everyone in the room. He paused, taking note of the positions of those in front of him. It would seem a stowaway had been caught. This could get bad fast, stowaways were often desperate beings. Nothing is more dangerous than a cornered and desperate being, as there is no plan that it won't consider at least once. 

Buure tried not to interrupt and he kept his hands visible and empty. He wanted to stand witness, and was actively recording everything his suit could detect as the events might come into question later. He was several paces from them stowaway and the two crew men confronting her. He said a single word, in basic and in huttese, since that was an often used trade language in the outer rim: "Problem?"