[color=silver][h1][center]Innocent Until Proven Guilty?[/center][/h1][/color] [color=white][center][b]Silverhold Docks[/b][/center][/color] [color=silver][center]Summary[/center][/color] [color=silver][center][i]Kinneas returns to Silverhold after a job completed and money lavishly spent to recoup before taking on another job, but his plan may get upended[/i][/center][/color] [center][img]https://i.imgur.com/xbzDd3i.png[/img][/center] [hr] When Kinneas first was cast out to the border planet of Silverhold, he could never quite understand how the people could be content to live in such a way when places like Osirius, Bellerophon, or even Persephone existed in White Sun. They weren’t the most luxurious - no. He’d been at the center of high society - lived it to the fullest. People like the dungaree-clad men or modestly dressed women of Silverhold… he nearly felt sorry for them. Not for the fact that they lived such simple lives without the benefit of advanced technology just a ship ride away, but the majority of them fancied themselves pioneers. This was their land, their blood and sweat went into the mines they harvested ore from. They’d gripe about conditions, commiserate with each other over the way the Alliance eyed and nickeled and dimed them, but this was their planet. Didn’t matter the invisible hands that actually held paperwork owning the mines they worked with exploited the people who worked them. In his short time as an overseer of his… of the Revas-owned mines, Kinneas had come to listen to conversations between the men. Started participating in them. Got ideas of his own, but he didn’t share them. At least, he hadn’t until he started drinking with some of the men after end of shift. It was how he got on with a band of mercenaries that led him to finding more profitable work. And also how he found himself in the mess that awaited him when he returned home from his last jaunt off world. It all started with a jostle to his shoulder as he made his way through the space port. Since it certainly wasn’t the Space Bazaar, he hadn’t been expecting the bump so his top-load canvas duffle slipped slightly from his shoulder as he glanced to see the offender. The local sheriff - a robust man filled with a sense of self-importance fueled by corruption and his cozy seat in the Alliance’s back pocket: Sheriff Jethro Perkins. “See you made your way back here, Reed.” He clucked his teeth as he looked up. Most people had to look up to meet Kinneas’ gaze, and it was likely another thing that had set them off on the wrong foot. Another being his blatant disregard for the man’s authority. “You know me, Sheriff. Can’t stay away from the tap house in town.” Kinneas’ eyes glinted as his lips twitched and he hefted the bag back up fully on his shoulder. “Yeah, I know.” The man grunted. Kinneas was well-known by the locals of the Silverhold Colonies in the area thanks to some tavern tales. “Mark my words, Reed - this is your last warning. Keep out of stuff that don’t concern you none.” “Hate to have to ask this, but want to make sure I’m towing the line and all.. wouldn’t I be the one to decide what concerns me?” Kinneas asked without a hint of his beguiling flash of a smile, instead sporting an earnest seeking expression, almost of concern. Then it faded as he waved a hand the moment the sheriff blustered, giving out a sigh and went into a blasé dismissal. “I know, it’s because I’m not a native and can’t understand that blind obedience for the sake of what is, is what’s what, and what will always be. We’ll say your words are marked and noted, so I’m free to go about my way and make merry before heading off to my hovel.” “We’ll see you have a cell before long.” Maybe he wasn’t meant to hear it, but that was unlikely. Sheriff Perkins had grumbled it, sure, but he hadn’t lowered his voice too much as Kinneas turned to walk away seemingly without a concern.