The smoker raised a brow at the curious pair, offering a chuckle and extending a hand.<b>"Name's Mars, ma'am. And unless you work for Whitetower, I don't think I've got disciplinary authority."</b>He flashed a grin at the joke before motioning towards the boats.<b>"Pick whichever one feels lucky and get moving. Reckon we'll hold up the rear, since I don't think any more saw fit to follow the kindly new master's orders."</b><br/><br/>The quickly-fading cigarette was tossed to the ground soon enough, a prison-issue boot stamping it out in the sand as he stood vigil a while longer with his rifle propped against his shoulder. Sighing at the relatively poor turn out and cursing at the chaotic stupidity of the lunatics he was incarcerated with, he turned towards the remaining boat with a measured stride. The two remaining villains followed behind, a murmured conversation passing back as forth as the last motorboat began to tear out towards the larger ship.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>