Sanjuro adjusted his collar, tugging the sleeve down to make sure the slim armour he wore remained as covered as possible, eyes flitting from face to face, occasionally winking at a cute girl before drifting his eyes towards Martha. He had drained his sleeve, cheeks a little pinker than they were the night had started, but still looking as collected as he did when he arrived. Then again, he did a courage shot before driving over here. This wasn't a war zone, and that's enough of a reason to drink and by merry as much as his work permitted.<br/><br/><span style="color: green">"She arrives. Our southern belle walks the ranch."</span>His grin shifting to a thin and mischievous line, Sanjuro looked over to Meli then back to where he had seen Martha only to discover he had managed to already lose her in the crowd.<span style="color: green">"One is wise when they admit they know nothing? Is that how it goes? I try to be what I need to be, and so far that's worked."</span>Scratching the side of his neck, the exotic man offered what he must have thought was a sheepish expression, his grin fading into a combination of uncertainty and well worn self pity.<br/><br/>Turning away from the crowds and back to facing Meli as he played with his empty glass.<span style="color: green"> "I wonder where everyone else is supposed to be ... even a milk run doesn't have two people, even if we have the personality for four." </span>Winking at Meli, his eyes shift towards the approaching Thomas. His shoulders tense for a brief moment and his eyes whir with activity. By the time the more slender man was sitting down, whatever tension Sanjuro held escaped in a quiet exhale.<span style="color: green">"Well, six personalities are better odds. Even if not a lot of Nuyen."</span><div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>