<div align="center"><strong>McPherson -- Eavesdown docks -- playing baggage porter</strong></div><br/>Steve was old enough and had been around enough to take most of the antics in stride.  Being the FNG when you're young and taking life seriously can stir up all the emotional responses your tormentors are looking for.  For McPherson, however, it was simply part of the job to carry the old lady's bags because he was new and it was a job nobody else wanted.  It's the same reason he was mentally prepared to start cleaning up souvenirs of the last load of cargo as soon as he checked on board.  Let her poke and prod all she wants, it's nothing compared to undergoing interrogation in a prisoner of war camp.  Besides, he could simply remind himself this was preferable to cleaning up dog poop.  From the odor, it was probably a massive amount of dog poop.<br/><br/>"I'd be honored, Captain" as he left his own bag where it set and took hold of Mrs Sylvester's luggage with one hand, while wrapping his arm around the old lady's waist in a<em>much too familiar</em>manner.  Without so much as a smile and with all the seriousness he could muster, he addressed the frisky woman.  "Come along, lassie, but I feel I should warn ya, I'm impotent."  That was said loud enough for the entire assembly to overhear.  Then he bent low to whisper, though anyone standing close enough might still hear.  "An old war injury... like a wet noodle it's been ever since the Battle of Sturgis ...<em>Agghh</em>, but we'd have made a<em>hell of a team </em>20 years ago, aye?"  And with that, he gave her a little slap to the backside.  Just a little one, not enough to hurt, make her lose her footing, or arouse the cat to action.<br/><br/>***<br/><br/>"I hope we'll get a chance to see more of each other again real soon, Ma'am" he said to Mrs Sylvester, putting her in the transport, "and hopefully, on your next trip our cargo will be a shipment of petunias."<br/><br/>There, that was done, and now to finally board the ship and deposit his bags, then off with the captain as he conducted business.  He wasn't clear if the captain would want him to strap on a real pistol or just make do with the smaller and more concealable pea shooter.  That was already tucked away in a discrete holster in the small of his back.<br/><br/>The more important issue at hand, though, was to keep a straight face regardless of the crew's antics or their reaction to his own.  It wasn't that hard, all he had to do was look at Dani and see how serious her condition must be that two of the male crew members felt it necessary to shield her from him.  On this issue, he decided not to comment as he passed, remaining stoic and hoping that later he would have an opportunity to show his trustworthiness.. not that he wanted to be friends, he just felt sorry for the woman and didn't want her to feel paranoid of him his entire time on board.<br/><br/>"Where we're goin', Captain, am I alright dressed like this, or should I change into somethin' more comfortable and strap on a weapon less comfortable?"  He figured the captain was in a hurry to conduct business but everything Steven owned was in  the single bag he carried, which meant the trousers and shirt he wore were the only "nice" clothes he had that didn't involve dressing up in his only suit.  If there was any fighting to be done, he'd rather be wearing something that didn't matter if it got torn or bloody, and he'd rather be using a weapon with more stopping power.  On the other hand, ruining ones clothes was just another one of the risks that came with the job.<br/><br/>