Geil twitches<em>almost</em>imperceptibly as the magic (ab)user appears. "Mornin' Saerrael." He nods in his direction. If there's one thing that has a chance of making him nervous, it is the arcane arts. He's not yet sure whether the best defence against such magics is more magic, or Very Big Guns. He's trying both for good measure, so he has Saerrael on board - or maybe it's something to do with his alluring grace, or the sensually smooth, straight, white, hair -<em>God! The hair - mustn't drool. Captains don't drool. Think about the guns instead.</em><br/><br/>"Shadow - don't you worry yourself about not using the guns. What ever we decide to loot, the authorities here will eventually notice us and send something over to try to blow us out of the sky." He puts a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "At that point there will<em>definitely</em>be plenty for you to shoot at whilst we make our escape. In the mean time, maybe you should join the museum expedition in case there's any safes or strong rooms that need blowing open. Mmm - this<em>is</em>England, so try hitting the museum at just after four p.m. and start by sealing off the café as most of the staff will have gone there for tea."<br/><br/>"Attacking a mansion should be easier. Some of the really big ones we might be able to bring the ship down in the back garden and hover close enough to perform a boarding action through one of the bedroom window balconies. It's not hard to spot the super-rich ones from above just by size, and they'll all have plenty of alcohol and tea to acquire, but," he looks over to Saerrael, "can you somehow tell whether they have any of the books you're after?"<br/><br/>A sideways glance at Greytrail's slur. He mutters to himself, increasingly loudly whilst pacing: "Officers ... No sense ... Officers ... No sense ..." and then is suddenly very close by. "You know, Mister Ravenswolf, I'm not sure whether you're right or not. Maybe we should perform a little experiment? I'll knock you senseless with this belaying pin and we'll see if you're an officer or not when you wake up. Or shall we just get on with the looting? What do you think?" His tone is more of a neutral, inquisitive affair than an accusative one, but the large wooden pin that the captain is repeatedly slapping into the palm of one his hands is definitely very real.