"I'll try not to let anybody traipse in on you unannounced." Torin replied, a hint of sarcasm present in his voice. Bowing to the Rogue Trader, he turned and left the deck, heading for the nearest service elevator. His legs needed a little bit of a recalibration, not to mention a general check-up, so he was off to visit the Techpriest. It had been a while since his last visit, but he knew that there'd be no metaphorical love lost 'twixt the two of them. It was infrequently that he sought out the Techpriest for a tune-up, and it was always a routine enough affair.<br/><br/>As he walked, his mind wandered, mostly settling on the topics of his new crewmates.<br/><br/>The Arbitrator, he coult tell from first impressions, would be a sturdy and reliable sort. Torin's varied experiences in his youth had left him with a wide experience of the Arbites - both as protectors and lawkeepers, and as uncompromising scourges. During his hive-gang days, he'd never been caught, to his credit, but he'd seen first-hand the sort of damage a squad of armed and armoured Arbitrators could do to a riotous mob. And, on the other hand, being born into the aristocracy of his hive had given him a priviledged view of the Arbites as they appeared to the upper-crust - a stern, doggedly persistant force of righteous retribution in the Emperor's name. His opinions of them, thus, were neutral - he recognised their purpose, but he had never felt entirely comfortable with laying himself at their mercy. But regardless, he'd noticed the peculiar reaction that the Arbitrator had had to the Sister. He'd have to keep an eye on them, to see how well they performed together.<br/><br/>And, on that note, there was the Sister. Torin prescribed to a particular school of thought, regarding them - he admitted that they were as useful and as deadly as they were pious and devoted. But on the other hand, as far as he was concerned, they were little more than blunt instruments, so attuned to Imperial doctrine that they were incapable of steering away from it. They were, in his mind, unsubtle, unsophisticated, unnecessarily aggressive, and generally lacking in tactical sense. He didn’t know if the Sister they had onboard fit these trademarks, mind, but, if the innumerable stories he’d heard were true, he was willing to bet she’d be an absolute hellion in a fight, and a hindrance in all other situations.<br/><br/>He wasn’t sure what to make of the girl, the lost-worlder with next-to-no knowledge of the Imperium. A less gracious man than he would be inclined to use her naivety to his advantage, wrapping her around his finger and discarding her when he’d had his fun. However, Torin liked to envision himself as being more of a gentleman than that. She seemed earnest enough, and he was well-aware that youth breeds optimism and enthusiasm. However, he was skeptical as to her value in a fight, and so was convinced that she’d be better-off in the ship, where she was much less likely to suffer grievous bodily harm than she would be if she accompanied the Rogue Trader or himself out on a land-based mission. Besides - he’d noticed the subtle hand-clasp that the Sister had made. He’d heard rumours that the Sororitas were not required to be celibate, and he’d heard even more barrack-room tales of the mischief that they often got into when bored and in ‘the mood’, but not only was he almost certain that these tales were just as fictional as they sounded, but he wasn’t even sure if the hand-hold had been organised along those lines. He could easily have been reading too much into it - he’d have to monitor them as closely and as subtly as he could as well, if only to sate his own curiosity.<br/><br/>His mind continued along such tangents as he made his way into the bowels of the ship, questing for the elusive Techpriest.<br/><br/><b><span style="color: black">((tl;dr, Torin's opinions on the other crew-members.))</span></b><div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>