[color=silver][h1][center]First Impressions[/center][/h1][/color]
[color=white][center][b]Lunar Veil | Galley[/b][/center][/color]
[color=silver][center]Summary[/center][/color]
[color=silver][center][i]Finally alone Kinneas takes a moment to reflect on the whirlwind of events.[/i][/center][/color]
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When the hatch closed at Serena's departure, Kinneas felt a weight lift off his chest as he took a deep breath and let his head hang just a moment. The cool of the rung against his head was steadying as he focused on it, ordering his thoughts. It was easier away from the others, concussion aside. The familial feel he'd mocked, he never quite got it. Always the independent operator. And it seemed like it caught up to him. 

Interpol after him? He did figure it'd happen one day. Kinneas was the last one left from that job. But no, he laughed as he released the ladder and lifted his head. He was convicted of being a terrorist, blowing up another mine, the girl had said. 

The whole miner rebellion may have started because of something he sparked, he'd realized on his way to stop the chaos he'd heard about that had landed him here. There may have been some labor law and workers' rights talk over some drinks at the taphouse, tactical strike methods included. However, the sort of strike he'd discussed involved sit-downs and peaceful protests, maybe hunker down to stop production. Not to blow up - or hell, even take hostages. 

He ran a hand through the hair along his scalp as he sighed, feeling the knot again while he took in the room. When Serena had said Tim had fixed up the unoccupied bunk, he half expected a welcome banner given the oddity of the crew. But it was clean, functional, and bare aside from the made bed which he went to lie on and his large duffle that had also made the trip. He reached out and touched the canvas, a smirk coming to his lips as his mental image of the three hauling him away from the miner camp now including the large, heavy bag.

First impressions often told you who a person really was, his father had told him. Serena was almost too genuine, in that adorable naive sort of way. Her brother, by contrast, was genuine in a way as well, but definitely not the same. He seemed older than his age, but not by much. Being responsible for someone else, he had seen once before, did that to a kid. 

There was a level of responsibility there. Like the doc. Barbed as she was, she didn't seem truly resentful of her work. Otherwise, why stick to it? He could be wrong though. He didn't know her or the rest of them. 

Especially the captain. Couldn't get a good read on him. Likely the stone cold type, a begrudging statue with an annoying little song bird that was Serena perched atop and Vas glaring in camaraderie beside. No, he smirked, amusing as it was, it wasn't quite right. The guy had been fine until pressed. 

Kinneas' thoughts strayed into what he'd do now, when the captain's words came back to him. 'Go about your merry way.' Silverhold wasn't an option, at least until he sorted whatever mess he was in out. If he even could. If Interpol was after him, he might find it hard to go anywhere for long. Not that he had a place to call home. Finding work was just difficult without a place for clients to find you, though, but usual haunts were also off the table. He'd have to update some folks, he thought, and reached for his bag again - maybe they could help sort out the mess. But first, Kinneas prioritized, some research was in order.
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