Headphones blared bad techno music, easily blocking out the noise of the ships travels. He leaned against the railing of the ship. Dark brown hair was unkempt, or atleast fashioned to look that way, framing a slender masculine face that still possessed a boyish wonder and charm. Buddy Holly glasses almost magnified big dark brown eyes that pretty much looked black, and purt lips were pressed in such a manner that described discomfort. He hadn't shaved in days, and it showed. Mr. Redder wasn't cut out for life at sea, and he knew it when he changed from "Hell yea it'd be fun to ride a boat!" to "Ugh, why couldnt we fly...?"<br/>The gross sounds of distant chunks hitting water came back to him, echoed by the exterior of the ship. A groan of despair escaped his throat as he leaned over the rail. He cursed Dr. Ian Malcolm and somehow wondered if his referral was a joke, after overhearing his relations with INGEN from the many conversations aboard the ship. He looked down to his clothes, and found out once again he had to change as bits of breakfast clung to it. Slightly irritated, he made his way to his quarters and changed into something a bit more appropriate, even though he despised "safari" gear, he was encouraged to bring it, and much to his dismay, he knew he needed it after finding out what he was really in for. After completely making himself look like a dork in his trekking gear, he gathered his essentials for the contract; everything he needed to be the IT guy, and then some.<br/>With one last look he checked himself out in the mirror. With nerdlike satisfaction he couldn't help but find that he actually filled out his clothing and looked... Muscular. He dismissed the thought and quickly made his way to get off this damn boat.