[h2][color=C6683D][u]Prima D. Louis[/u][/color][/h2]
As surprising as it might be, it is almost impossible to sneak through town when one is nine meters tall.

He had done his best to hide his appearance, shrouding himself in what was essentially a massive hessian sack and a crude wooden mask. But nothing could be done for his size, or the minute earthquakes resonating briefly with every footstep. And to be frank, he rather felt as if he were drawing more attention by appearing almost as if he were some sort of strange oversized sack-ghost. Certainly, a great many eyes turned to him as he passed, though he ignored them in favour of his eventual goal. The tavern.

He'd heard the crew had started there. If anyone was left, that was where they'd go, surely. Many had fallen even before himself. The chances that anyone remained were... slender.

Perhaps more concerningly, the chances of his getting inside of any of these buildings was even more slender. The boat he'd come in on was fairly large, but with only enough storage space to carry him and the minimum necessary sustenance this far, and he'd been using the food sack itself as cover from the elements. He had no intention of getting back on if he could help it - unless the remainder of the crew was truly a tale. The point being, it became very clear very swiftly that, far from walking into the tavern, he'd be lucky to fit one arm inside without knocking over a table, and the people at the table with it.

Though, inexplicably, his arrival seemed to have gone unnoticed by most inside: as he leaned down to peer in, he realised that they were by and large far too busy celebrating - perhaps the success of the Marines, if fate had a sort of spiteful logic to it. All of them, save for one small group in the corner...

Beneath the mask, he smiled. Might be he had a chance at reuniting with some of the old guard after all.

Creeping around to the nearest window, he looked in again. There, the nervous chap in the cloak: Zerry, the hair-like tentacles unmistakeable once you knew them well enough. And next to him, surly-like and clearly upset with the way things had gone: the, the, she was an engineer right? Different division, never somebody he'd met personally, but he knew she was a Sea Reaver too. And the smallest one: Poppy, the only Dwarf he was aware of in their ranks, but strong for her minute size. And one more lady: he'd recall her name if he let it stew a tad, but the big "person" behind her had to be her robot. Big, not Ōminkumimi big, but still hefty.

But speaking of "big"... no Magdalena. Which, truly, was a pity and a half. If anyone was likely to survive... then again, she'd also been the single biggest target.

Still, it couldn't be helped. What could be helped was how to get their attention; in the end, he settled for gently tapping the glass of the window with the edge of his fingernail, which still rattled it in its frame like a fist trying to knock it down. Should one of them open it up for him, he'd take the opportunity to raise the mask a little, give a cheesy grin, and in his deep baritone utter [color=C6683D]'Kept you waiting, didn't I?'[/color]