[h1][b][i][color=olivedrab][center]Ansgar Staudinger[/center][/color][/i][/b][/h1]

	The first person to reach Ansgar was the lass Teg, who was calling out about anyone being injured. Between the explosion, trying to put down the damage and flames, and the general din and noise of all that, the last thing he really cared for was shouting. Well, he couldn't readily fault the shouting, though he would still rather it not be going on. Not like the situation wasn't under control or anything right now. Teg herself was an unlikely suspect, most of the crew was to be honest, even that [i]judge[/i] outside of being a bloody damn bad luck charm. He was still leaning against the bulkhead to prevent anyone from wandering in until he knew why they were trying to, to give the go ahead, and not get in the way of trying to get the fuel system back up and mostly running. The longer they were limping on half engines, the worse their odds were. "Nay lass, ain' no injured oe'er 'ere 'sides th' poor ship bein' injured now. Damn 'nemies"

	Of course, as he had requested, the good Captain had made her way down to the engine room and was already questioning him on what the hell happened to her ship. He didn't even blink an eye at her tone of voice, he was too pissed off with the fact that his life had gotten a lot more complicated because some sodding wanker on his home had been bought off or planted to make their lives more difficult. Well, the goal was to kill them outright or leave them stranded and dying a slow, painful death to starvation, pirates, both maybe. Hard to say. But the question needed an answer, and he clearly took his time to avoid letting the accent make him completely unintelligible, which happens when he was fairly pissed off. "Aye Lass, whoever ye paid to fuel the ship was either bought of by our 'friends', or one o' them wa' on th' payroll of th' 'friends'. Did th' usual sweep fer bombs in th' lines, an' found one before it hit th' main fuel tanks. If it 'ad gotten there, we wouldn' be 'ere dicussin' it."

	It was at this point that Ansgar pulled out a coffin nail and lit it, taking a drag and half closing his eyes for a few, letting the warmth permeate his chest, before blowing it away from all present living beings. Including that damned cat. Speaking of bad luck charms, that cat was nothing but trouble and the Captain refused to believe it. Now that the captain was here, he could start smoking as to avoid accusations of smoking by an open fuel line or something patently stupid. And it was about now that he deigned to respond to their [i]illustrius[/i] pilot and her complaints about how soon they'd be back online. "Oh ah' dinnae know, cabbie. Ah'm sure ah can just use a couple o' them bendy straws to fix th' damn fuel line. Yer lucky ah ignored th' complaints on splittin' th' engines on each side t' mixed lines, or ye'd be flyin' with my rig't engines only. Soon as ah can fix th' fuel lines, ah'll be more tha' 'appy t' let you go back to fiddlin' with yer flight stick."