Stukov took the good natured ribbing over his preferred brand of suffering, as they called it, in stride. Let them lack the taste for something a bit finer in life. Bold thoughts for an armsman, of course, but he wasn't going to argue the fact the drink was strong at the best of times. Brewed poorly, and one could all but strip paint with it. Fortunately it was brewed well, and wouldn't take the lining of his throat with it as he drank. Having finished his food, he casually nursed and took his time while the discussion on this place, in response to his own question, was made. A stronghold should the planet be assaulted, from within or without, and of course a rare monument to the activites and glories, indirect as it may be, of Celeste's accomplishments. He'd not say that out loud, of course, but he finished his drink in a timely manner, sighing quietly in a rare content. Smiles and Cogs got up to discuss Throne knows what, and he glanced at the Kid. [color=598527]"You've been quiet, Kid. Relatively speaking, what's rattling in that head of yours?"[/color]

	The Kid was an unknown, literally and figuratively. Sure he carried fancy kit, but that wasn't any promise that he knew how to use it. Cogs might have written him off as another Prank Victim, and Throne knows what Smiles thought, he didn't pretend to, but he didn't like unknowns. No sense being a prick about it though, might as well offer him a chance to speak up. He'd spent enough fights being the odd one out, a mad bastard with a shotgun surrounded by faceless Inquisitors, seasoned veterans, irate Bolter Bitches, obscenely powerful psykers, and that was just to name a few. Kid was probably going to need an eye kept on so he didn't get his head removed not so neatly from its neck. He'd rather know he can't rely on the Kid than have it come up as a rude shock, if he was lucky the Kid might be salvageable. Sure, he'd gotten a dressing down from Celeste, but he'd butted heads with her before as well. And now she was in charge. Such was life in the Imperium.

	Celeste decided it was time for them to go on the grand tour now, and Stukov offered a nod to Sis as he stood up and made sure his kit was slung properly. Moving in step with Celeste, he quietly considered what she said as they moved. It reeked of Rogue Trader tastes, near as it was to his encounters to compare to. Moving down a corridor of artwork, of varying...interest, and he couldn't help but make an offhand remark, directed at no one in particular. [color=598527]"Long as you aren't keeping a corridor of statues, I won't have any comments to make..."[/color]

	Smiles probably would remember that one, but Stukov didn't elaborate for anyone who didn't. Striding along into the medical wing, another Bolter Bitch was working the place. It wasn't surprising, mind, but he still was going to make a mental note of it. Drawing from old postings was smart, it ensured loyalty, doubly so beyond the whole Inquisitorial authority business. Still, given the fact she'd be the one stitching them up when the injuries began mounting, no sense being rude. Of course, not rude by Stukov's means was, well, still nicknames and offhand commentary. [color=598527]"Honor indeed, Sawbones. I'll try and keep the internal lacerations to a minimum after nasty brawls."[/color]

	The tour continued, and Stukov made mental notes of each location. A swing by the armory would be in order, he wanted to grab a mono knife to serve as a last ditch backup weapon, do some digging to see if any other toys stuck out to him before heading for the engineering bay to do routine maintenance on his kit. The shotgun was going to be the quick one, and if the opportunity arose, he would have to see what Cogs could do to make it hit harder. He wasn't quite as, what was the word, twitchy over 'inventive' modifications. But that would have to wait, no doubt Smiles roped her into some madness or another. The last thing to be shown was a swimming pool, which was apparently just for show. He...didn't know how to swim, it wasn't something an armsman really needed to know. Sure, he could probably figure it out if it was swim or drown, but that wasn't something he was going to engage in for his own amusement. Booze served that well enough.

	[color=598527]"We'll see how long that lasts, knowing our luck. Right, have fun you lot, I'm flagging a room for myself, doing an inventory of the armory, then going to put some elbow grease into my kit in engineering. Make sure its all shiny and good to go, you know where to find me."[/color] Stukov would first make his way to the Armory, true to his word, finding himself a mono knife to strap to his boot, buckling it in place and giving it a few experimental weighs and basic motions. It would do nicely for a 'Fuck me' moment. He then took some time to inventory the armory, doing a count of what was around and available just in case he was in a hurry coming through here at some point. Next was flagging the least gaudy room available, not that he suspected there was much difference, and then he was off to engineering. He'd find himself a bench to start field stripping and working on his shotgun, and over the next remaining two and change hours would be other weapons and such, chain-cutlass included. If anyone needed him, well, they knew where to find him by his own admissions.