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8 yrs ago
Current Malfunctioning Space Toilet (favorite death post in RPG) : roleplayerguild.com/posts/4…
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10 yrs ago
Example of a "Character Flaw": roleplayerguild.com/posts/32..
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@Morose

Will keep this in mind.


"Now, let's try the same trick ...ON FIRE!"
@Morose

Two things.

One, that was one of the more amazing posts that accomplished absolutely nothing that I have witnessed in a long while.

Two, I really wish that I had The Great Bazhooli in this RP. Possibly with Crypt ties.


Black James(!)



Location: Building 7 (Rec Center)




Nobody seemed to notice James Mandingo Grady enter the Rec Center. It was difficult not to, considering that the concept of "blending in" really only worked for him if he was out of doors, tracking game, and (most importantly) with his mouth shut. These things rarely all happened at the same time inside the walls of Newnan. Those who had hunted with the colorful southern gentleman might speak of the utter difference in posture and attitude, describing a man who was as a King's Ranger of old, not the bubbly Court Jester that most Newnanites had come to know and cherish. Which is why it was somewhat offputting when no one noticed the man until a few out of context words reached his ears.

It was spoken in an educated British accent, mentioning a need for Something Hard And Dark.

What else could he do? James looked over in the general direction of the discussion, flashed a big thumbsup at Miss Sally while plastering on his best Eddie Murphy shit-eating grin. The pause was momentary, as he actually had someplace to be. In particular, one of the carts that Domestic had so lovingly taken care of for him had yet to be displayed to the gathering public, a situation that he was to rectify ASAP.

He lifted the lid from his cart, revealing an entire, tusked hog, skinned and dressed, cooked to crispy-moist, rested perfection. He stood ready with a cleaver and a good chef's knife, parting the succulent flesh from white bone, getting the more difficult cuts out of the way for the party goers before going to mingle, maybe get some of Cap'n Ash's good homebrew. From across the room, one might hear him exclaim, "Mm hmm, yes'm. Hunted it myself. C'mon now! Y'all leave that face-meat alone, hear? That's all fo' the newlyweds. Best damn parta that pig, lemme tellya."



Ash Holloway



Location: Building 7 (Rec Center)




The second after Thana pointed out Jack and Tatiana, the latter bounded over to their location and wrapped each one of them in a hug. Said hug had all of the earmarks of a martial arts maneuver designed to choke out larger livestock, possibly even bears. With sudden and equally paralyzing grace, Tatiana then set her sights (and limbs) upon Thana, pressing her into something of a Newnan Coming of Age trial - Surviving Tati. Thana's comment concerning Father Mulcahy was noted and understood. As Ash recovered, he managed to get out "Yeah. Stuffing's completely out..."

"Yes, of course. Thank you, Tatiana." he tried to ignore the sly way in which she used word "date", let alone the particular carbonation of her personality. It was her day. Best leave it that way. "I'm forgetting my manners. Tatiana, Jack, this is Dr. Thana Martin, Lieutenant Commander, United States Navy. Thana, this is Tatiana Korvo and Jack Hudson, Newnan's first newlyweds." Ash was unclear what they intended to do with their surnames, leaving it to one or the other of them to correct if necessary. Oh, and he definitely caught the sideways look from the resident ballerina. Were he capable of blushing, now might have been the time.

And of course, there was Jack. He was in uplifted spirits, with good reason. Ash barely noticed the suggestive look from the man. Barely even noticed the slow, approving nod and the expression that insinuated ...things... Yes. Barely noticed. He gave a polite nod, and accepted the man's hand. "You two were going to do this, regardless. Thank you for sharing your moment with me."

Victor chose this moment to arrive, extending his own greetings and congratulations. Ash nodded acknowledgement of his compliment concerning the ceremony, and so long as formal introductions were still being made, "Yes, Miss Martin; this is Dr. Victor Bonheur; Newnan's Medical Lead and my Second. He was, ah... a good friend of your sister's." Ash felt a touch uncomfortable speaking about Zoie, but he knew that someone was going to broach the subject at one time or another. This was more of a polite nudge that questions and/or reminiscing might be forthcoming in present company. He was fully aware that Thana had no desire to speak about her openly, at least not yet. Victor was a good man, without question. But Ash felt the need to direct the conversation for the sake of his Plus One.

"But I'm forgetting my manners again. Jack, Tatiana, I wanted to give you a little something, commemorating the occasion." He produced the bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue Label and presented it to the two of them. "Typical, coming from me. I thought you would want something decent for later." It was a self depreciating statement. The alcohol they served at the reception was a collection of his work; distillations and fermentations, mostly made from corn and sweet potatoes (though there were a few scavenged items). It was quality work, but sometimes one needed something aged more than a few months.



Foy Coiffeur

Location: Foy-er


"Orphan, my good sir?" asked Foy, half-understanding what the Shepherd was asking him. "The circumstances of my birth, be they not of grand, epic undertaking, hails my personage from a well-to-do line of Gentry. My dear parents, though we have not much in the ways of daily discourse, are vigorously above ground."

Foy prepped his hot lather and readied a tray of sterilized instruments; sipped from a demitasse of rich, black coffee, and amended his previous statement. "Upon further reflection, Preacher, it occurs that a Man of the Cloth, as it were, would have a penchant for parable and metaphor - as I suspect you guilty of presently. If you are asking if I am a churchgoing individual, I should have to admit that my spiritual and social needs are more briskly seen to with alternate method, sir."

"Ah! We are ready. Do sit down. Now, was that a trim as well, or merely a shave?" Foy smiled with just a twinkle of expectation. Regardless of circumstance, and this was no doubt unusual, Foy did have a simple love of his family's ancestral craft. "So, however does a Preacher find himself in the employ of brigands? Meaning your crew or ours, of course."





William Harper

Location: Retribution, Captain's Office -> Bridge


Harper walked away from the conversation as a man whose meal was interrupted. It was a promising start, and he was more or less confident that this Browncoat Captain wasn't going to kill him immediately. Something about an enigma - people wanted to figure it out before ditching it outright. So long as he wasn't viewed as a variable in some grand equation, he could rest a little easier. Uncertainties tended to make people in charge nervous. Still, he had more to share and a couple of requests to be made, all in the spirit of mutual good faith. For now, he was going to play ball, hopefully suppress an uprising before it starts, and get his freedom back.

Right at this moment, Harper settled into step back to the Bridge. He felt most at ease there with the exception of his own quarters behind a locked door. It was time for a quick check on sensors and diagnostics, maybe a slight course correction to maintain static position around this moon to evade detection from Whitefall and parts nearby. Satisfied that they were still beyond all but the most specific scrutiny (from much closer than the next moon over), he sighed lightly. Per suggestion of this woman, Crowe, his next task was to find the Browncoat pilot and acclimate her to the nuances of piloting a Patrol Boat. Hopefuy not too well, too fast. Handling Alliance craft was one bargaining chip he didn't want to do away with completely. Not until better trust was established.

It hit him - Harper had no idea where this lady pilot might be. He sighed again, this time more audibly. Time to start roaming the ship.





"Act, and God will act." -Joan of Arc

Location: Chapel Undercroft -> Carriage House (and parts beyond)




Sister Mary smiled a quiet thanks to Bishop Mansfield for his permission to leave the Ely Palace. It was a burden at times, being subject to one's Oaths before God, but it was a burden taken willingly. This is how the Church operated. It kept them well-ordered and strong, even in a place like London where their influence was decidedly less than the rest of Europe.

She took up her halberd and received Elizaveta's hand as it was presented. "I accept your offer, and believe that a carriage would be a fine idea." With some formality, she led the Russian noblewoman from the candlelit Undercroft and into the brighter Chapel above. "If it please My Lady, I must acquire some tools of my profession and provisioning set aside for the evening. If you would be as kind as to escort me to my rooms, I shan't be but a moment."

If it were a simple matter of getting geared for a fight, Mary was already set. Quite the resplendent image in gilded cassock with halberd, brace of short blades, and almost comically oversized howdah pistol. But simple combat was not the entirety of her world. Plus, the invitation was very clear about maintaining a sense of propriety. It was likely most unseemly for a young lady like herself to be openly heavily armed, despite the nature of her summons. When she reached her quarters within St. Etheldreda's, she quickly donned one of the few trappings of official finery she possessed; a long, black cloak with silver edging and arm slits, the equidistant cross of St. Sylvester stitched into the back and over her heart in white and silver. She might have preferred her white robe for comfort's sake, but this was official business of the Order. They must be represented accordingly.

The short journey down to the carriage house in the more village-like section of Ely was spent in relative quiet. Mary herself was happy to have someone along that had a greater understanding of the job she needed to do at Almack's. Of course, the same could be said of Elizaveta. Mary was not certain precisely what business brought her to that same locale; only that it involved a meeting of representatives from the peoples that had taken responsibility to train individuals like herself and the noblewoman. She imagined her role to be more diplomatic, more eye-appealing and conversational than Mary's own. Still, it was good to be in the company of someone in the know, so to speak.

When they arrived at the carriage house, Mary assisted Elizaveta into her conveyance and tucked her halberd into the interior forequarter. Respectfully, she bid the Lady Romanova give her a minute's time, and darted into the stables, one door over. She returned in less time than what was required, carrying laden saddlebags and wearing a warm smile. "Thank you so much for your patience, Lady Romanova. I am ready to depart at your convenience."

All in all, it was a good day, threat of Soulless attack notwithstanding. A child's life was saved and brought into the protection of the Church, a woman's soul was eased in a dramatic and powerful way, and Mary had made a new friend and ally in Elizaveta. There was reason to be positive. Guarded, but positive. And now, finally, she could tend to her duties as a Dame, arriving with the company of someone that would likely be taken more seriously than herself, no less. "My Lady, have you the opportunity yet to sample some of St. Ethedreda's fine strawberries? They are quite noteworthy."


Keystone

Location: Yellow Rose Temple -> En Route to the Crossed Swords Inn & Tavern
Interacting With: Sana, Yomdi

GM permission to bunny Sana and Yomdi




Alright, Keystone had to admit that he had some concerns regarding Yomdi's technique. It seemed to have absolutely nothing to do with healing nor diagnosis, appearing more like a series of wild gyrations designed to show off his deceptive vigor and flexibility. To be fair, the broad pugilist was not a Healer. Quite the opposite, he was generally called upon to act in his role as a breaker of bones and crusher of squishier parts of (demi)human anatomy. Still, this was weird. Even for Yomdi.

That concern increased when his friend and former adventuring partner, Sana, was rendered breathless. Her struggle to pull good air into her lungs brought Keystone's concern swiftly to alarm; he in fact had stepped a foot forward to do something rash. He wasn't exactly certain what he intended to do, but there was an emotion associated with obligation that welled up to the surface of his battle-scarred frame. In that second, the Gypsy-Bard received a hard smack from Yomdi and breathed in fresh air. Concern left Keystone's face as he heard Sana's clear voice sound out the first of what might very well be a lengthy series of angry insults. His heart beat a little slower, and mirth found its way into his voice.

"Ah good, she'll be alright then..." mentioned Keystone. The landscape of his thought was that, now that she was strong enough to hurl insult, she was strong enough to recover. Of course, that probably meant she still needed a little time to fully recover, which was likely why the otherwise shameless man felt safe enough to poke a little fun. Sana well rested and at full ability wasn't something to take lightly, even for a bareknuckle specialist like himself.

"Keystone?" she spoke with uncharacteristic calm. Something uncomfortable might be forthcoming. "Don't think we're not discussing this later."

"Aw, Bacon's sake, lady! Had me worried, you did. C'mon, let's get somethin' to drink and sup on, talk 'bout hat we're doin' next, yeah?"

"Sure." Still calm. Damnit. "While we're at it, you're going to tell me how many 'friends' you have in this area, in case something like this happens again."

The Master of the Yellow Rose Temple interjected, "Yes, yes. All friends here! You get the Bad Air again, Yomdi will fix you up, good as new! Better maybe... Yes, yes... no. No, just good as new. But fixed!"

The look on Sana's face was not one of encouragement for Keystone. "Look, Miss Sana, he did fix ya, right? Ain't always sunshine an' candies, now is it?"

Again, Yomdi spoke his peace. "Good! Good. Now, you go. Rest, eat, come back another time. Yomdi will be waiting. Yomdi knows you have questions, many questions. You will have answers, too. But now, go to friends." He crept up to Keystone as he spoke, and rose to full height in front of the man. His right hand raised, first two fingers extended. These he tapped onto the side of the Pugilist's head repeatedly has he continued speaking, "Remember to breathe. Maybe Yomdi can fix you too, young Monk. Help you open what they closed. Yes? Yes. Breathe! Now go."

Thoroughly not understanding what the old man was babbling about, Keystone gave a traditional gesture of respect, bowing slightly while tapping his knuckles together in front of himself. It wasn't exactly how the action was performed in this area, he had come to find out, but it was easily recognized as a comparable gesture nonetheless. "Many thanks, Master Yomdi." He moved to assist Sana. She could likely walk out under her own power, but he hoped that she would not begrudge him a small assist as he placed her arm on his shoulder for balance and moved his hand to the back of her waist. "C'mon then. Let's get back to Kyra an' them."





Caesar Gonzalez


Location: Morgue



Caesar nodded to Doctor Brinne, grunting an affirmation. Of course it made sense to find replacements for their work. It's not like people would stop dying just because they left town. Hell, considering they have been trying to play an active role in investigating and preventing such painful occurrences, their absence might actually "Butterfly Effect" a whole new crop of dead people into existence before they even leave the airport. As for his team, Caesar had an Acting Director in place, though this was mostly for day-to-day issues and for show. Keystone wasn't really trained properly to run an entire branch in a major metropolitan area, at least not yet. The legalities alone made the grizzled Mexican concerned for his company's insurance rates. But if all went well, he would be bringing back someone more qualified to actually run the business. God help them all, but at a cost.

His own plans were being finalized with the liberal use of a number of apps. Caesar might have had an easier time of it using one of the computers in the Morgue, but the security provided by his satellite phone made up for many an icon unwittingly selected because of the venerable man's stubborn refusal to use the stylus provided with his device. It took a little bit of time, but it got accomplished. Now that the bodies had been released, they would be picked up and escorted under guard to their respective locations, there to await the bereaved and ceremonies appropriate to their families' faiths. Alicia would be transported on the same aircraft that they were taking the next morning, and the funeral (with subsequent ritualistic festivities) would take place the next day. Caesar might even stick around for a little while, getting the lay of the land and formalizing a backup plan in case things got really bad. If Juno decided to take the fight to his home ground, they might just find a few surprises waiting for them.

Still, he could not progress that evening until Cecily was ready to depart, provided that she was still of a frame of mind to join him, likewise he had to wait on Keystone to give him word. It was going to be an interesting evening, one way or another. Caesar did what he usually did in times like this: Chewed back his anger and set a wall of brooding in front of it, waiting for his moment to act. Loving father, dutiful Federale, grief stricken war machine; he was all this at once and more. The depths of his vengeance was never fully plumbed, and after his daughter was resting in the Gonzalez Family Tomb, the artist in him was going to paint a masterpiece of blood. But for now, patience.

Ash & Thana

Location: Parking Lot between 10 and Gilbert Street (Wedding Site) -> Building A (Ash's House) -> Building 7 (Rec Center)



It was the tiniest feeling of awkwardness, seeing Thana standing still in the crowd when everyone else was moving toward the Rec Center they were using as a Reception Hall. It had been a very long time since he had the responsibility of seeing to the needs of a "Plus One", and to be frank, he wasn't one hundred percent what he should be doing. Seeing her standing there, looking in his direction, it was quite obvious. He needed move to her direct location as soon as the situation allowed.

Ash gave sincere congratulations to the newly wedded couple before they walked back down the aisle as Husband and Wife. As soon as they cleared the last row of chairs at the back, he stepped away from his position as Officiant and walked confidently to Thana. "Ma'am?" he offered, holding his arm out to her. "Let's get you a decent meal and more personally introduced to our people here, starting with the happy couple. But first, I need to pick up a box from home. It's our gift. Shall we?"

Thana nodded and slipped her arm back through Ash's as he offered it, a small half smile tugging at one corner of her mouth. Glancing over she cocked a brow as she spotted a woman tearing off from Richard, her lips pursing to the side slightly before blinking and leaving the wonder of what was going on to others. It wasn't her business. "So, what'd we get the happy couple?" she asked, a small smirk coming to her lips now as she gathered up the length of her dress in her free hand and let him lead the way back to his place.

"I noticed that, too." intoned Ash in a lowered voice, regarding Sana's sudden departure from her date for the evening. It was very possible that this wouldn't be the beginning of an issue, but then again, it was possible that it was a precursor to an unpleasant incident later. He didn't want to worry Thana unnecessarily, so he didn't push the issue. Besides, he made it a point to warn her earlier, and they both were armed, just in case. Instead, as they approached Ash's home nearby, he directed the conversation back to the reception. "Funny you should stress the "we", ma'am. I had planned to give them one of the few remaining bottles of my family's label. Then one of the scavenging parties for the wedding found something interesting in a bridal shop." They entered the Captain's dwelling, Ash locking the door behind him. He made his way to the refrigerator, and removed a bottle wrapped inside of an old brown paper bag. "Brother Perignon was a priest. Fellow bottler, too." he offered Thana the bottle. "That's what you are giving them. I've been hanging onto a bottle of Blue Label for a while. That's what I'm giving them. Didn't bother to wrap."

Thana's brow rose slightly as he explained that they wouldn't be giving a joint present. Not that it mattered to her, she had just arrived so it was most likely not expected that she even bring a gift. The fact she was attending at all was probably shocking enough considering the circumstances. But he had said we, so a little goading was needed in her mind. "Well Captain, you did say 'we got them a gift' earlier," she quipped as she reached out and took the bottle from Ash, a slyness to her tone. Letting out a feigned sigh she shrugged as she looked it over. "But if this is the best that there is, I suppose it will do for them to swill," she said coyly, giving a single half chuckle.

If Ash was a less astute officer, he might not have picked up the M*A*S*H reference. "One does not swill Dom. Ma'am, I have sipped, lapped, and taken Dom intravenously, but I have never swilled Dom." It was difficult to tell if he was being serious, unless one were a fan of the old series.

"Hawkeye must be yer spirit animal."

"Yeah. I was just going to go with the champagne and slap a nametag from both of us on it. Then I thought that was pretty transparent. Unless you want to do that and hang onto the Blue, I'm good either way." he paused for a second, considering the words. Ok, that made sense. "Otherwise they'll just have to make due with this ...particularly excellent bottle of Dom. Hell, I'm half tempted to skip the party." Ash shook his head. "But I did promise you introductions. Ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be Captain, but between you and me and the wallpaper... I'd rather just sit in front of a fire and have a drink than head to the shindig but well.... Manners," she said as she adjusted her coat and stepped towards the door. Stopping she had a thought, she turned around and looked over to him. "Actually, before we go..." she started before giving a small wave of her hand as she dismissed the passing thought. "Nevermind, it'll keep until later. We'd better hurry before we give them something to to gossip about by being late."

Ash nodded. "I know how you feel. That ceremony was probably the most social thing I've done in years. But I have to make an appearance. We can cut it short, if you like. Figure out your arrangements for the night and get you settled in after." Gathering his bottle, Ash moved to the door and opened it for Thana. He waved her through, mentioning, "I never gave much thought to gossip about me. At least, not when I'm the guy in charge." Despite the fact that he ever really wanted to be the guy in charge, there he was. "You sure you're up for this tonight?" he asked, in reference to the sentence she didn't quite finish. "I can always grab a plate and slice of cake to bring back, and we can do introductions tomorrow, if you're more comfortable calling it early."

Stepping through the door she turned around and looked over to Ash, biting her bottom lip slightly before shaking her head. "Like with any place, people gossip Captain. Especially about the man in charge." Her voice was quick with a knowing look on her features. It was more than common that everyone gossiped about the Base Commander, underlings talking about the higher ups was a long standing past-time, especially in the military. From the looks she had gotten when she arrived at the wedding, she would have been surprised if the rumor mill was already spinning. "And sweet Jesus... Bringing me back a slice of cake?" she added before leaning in to make sure anyone passing them wouldn't hear. "One of the most common wedding traditions is to sleep with a piece of wedding cake under your pillow to dream about your future spouse." Leaning back she rose her brows and nodded to confirm her own words. "Let's not throw moonshine on the fire."

"Uh huh." For all Ash knew, his guest had the distinct impression that he was being suggestive instead of polite. "I'm from Virginia. Ruining a pillowcase with perfectly good cake must be a Georgia thing." Admittedly, he'd never heard of that custom. Though it wouldn't be the first time his fairly secluded upbringing led to a misunderstanding. Like when a British officer offered him a "fag" that almost led to a fistfight before he realized the man wasn't trying to provoke him. He shook off potential embarrassment of the situation with Thana and offered her his arm again. "But you're right. The only place we should throw 'shine is in our gut. Come on, let's go meet the newlyweds."

Thana smirked a bit as she slipped her arm back through his, this seemed to be an ongoing thing for the evening. "Nope, it's British I believe," she said. "Though I could be wrong." Shrugging she kept up with him as they headed over to the reception site from his place. She wondered if there was a library in the town, wasn't like she could log onto the net to research it. There was no google or imdb... Mores the pity, made remembering who the hell was in what so much easier. Granted, there weren't many movie dates anymore.

They started walking across the street and into the parking lot of the Armory. It was a funny feeling for Ash. He was dressed in a decent suit with a long, wool blend coat that he was really starting to like, a charmingly sarcastic woman he'd just met that day holding his arm, and they were going to a wedding reception carrying gifts. It almost made it seem like the last four years never happened. Maybe they could all lie to themselves for a few more hours. The distraction was necessary from time to time, as was the anticipation of similar distractions in the future. Ash was willing to put one foot into the fantasy, so long as he could also keep one grounded in reality. Grim, horrifying reality. "Just across this lot, next building over."

"Hey, thanks for keeping me company. I don't do large social gatherings very well."

Thana placed her free hand lightly over their intertwined arms and gave a gentle reassuring squeeze while they walked. "Captain, you're very welcome," she said in a kind voice as a smile graced her lips for a short time. She was enjoying his company, it was as simple as that.

Ash gave a quick glance down to where Thana was holding his arm, and against his better judgement, gave the smallest of smiles, himself. It had been over a year since anyone had made personal, physical contact with him in a manner that was not a formal greeting. It felt out of place, like he didn't deserve it or it was meant for someone else. It took him a second to remember that this is how normal people acted. In turn, that made him wonder exactly how far away from humanity he had stepped lately. It was troubling, but he might just owe the lady on his arm for that reminder. "I appreciate that, Thana. Really do."

Two minutes later, Thana and Ash found themselves stepping into Newnan's Recreational Center, all set up for the Prom, so to speak. He paused just inside the doors to have a quick look around at the guests already present. He noticed an off-duty Security officer already mingling with the crowd gathering and waved him over. When he arrived, Ash handed him a slip of paper, bidding him to deliver it to Jim at the makeshift bar. "List of alcohol restrictions; drink maximums and prohibitions. If he has any questions, have him send for me."

"Now, where's the happy couple?"


Reginald Keystone



Location: Grand Continental Hotel




Walsh's comments did not go unnoticed by the overly exuberant Corporal. He strove to maintain his steely gaze forward, unmoving, toward the Lord Major, but his resolve was wavering by the announcement that he had a loose thread on his epaulette. A single bead of sweat formed upon his forehead, and his visage became nervous. Even grave. The Corporal's eyes widened with alarm at the mere thought that his uniform was compromised by an oversight and not a grievous wound suffered on behalf of his Empire. But he would not break, oh no. He would not give in and turn his head to check while in ranks, in front of someone as decorated as the Lord Major. But the knowledge that something could be less than flawless unnerved him utterly.

"Lord MAJOR! The Corporal has failed Your Majorness, his post, and the British Empire, allowing himself to be caught in public in an un-uniformed condition! The Corporal begs for your forgiveness, sir! As soon as we return, The Corporal will be placing himself on immediate potato skinning duty! For the present, The Corporal requests permission to administer immediate corporal punishment on the Corporal, Lord MAJOR!"

He was as nonsensical as he was deafening. Reginald had no idea how to respond in any way that was reasonable, and relegated himself to shaking his head and moving slowly away. The first few steps he took without turning around, wanting to put a little distance between himself and the sad, loud man before showing his back in his general direction. The Corporal was given his orders, and if nothing else, Reginald could rest assured that the mirror polish non-com would carry them out. To the letter.

"Ah, Sergeant Walsh, old boy..." he called after the man, jogging up behind him (and away from his troops in place), "I was headed that way myself. This matter concerns you as well. If you have no objections, I should wish to accompany you and your... associate... to recover our people." Despite referring to Harry as Sergeant, the younger man was no longer in active service. As such, Reginald had no authority to order him to do anything. Not that he had any misgivings about the situation whatsoever; it was actually nice speaking to people as people and not as military assets.

Except for the Corporal. That man had issues.

So, after a colossally fugly day, members of both crews are invited to a parlor by a well-dressed and well-spoken (if a bit full of himself) gentleman for creature comforts, polite discussion, and the possibility of a cut and shave, and only the preacher takes him up on it? I know it's been a trying day in the 'Verse, but you've got to enjoy the little things.
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