Brian took a new look at what he now assumed was customized gear.  He had an eye for spotting weak point, vulnerable spots.  It had become second nature, instinctive, after years in both of his professions.   "Thanks for the offer," he replied.  "I'm the only one who touches my gear, though.  I may not be a great engineer, no real skill there at all, but upkeep's no problem."  And he had issues with jury-rigged gear or the people who constantly tinkered with their gear and that of others.<br/><br/>In the bunk room, he tossed his rifle onto a bunk, claiming it.  The rest of his gear stayed on his person.  Given his armor's properties, it really felt like he was carrying no weight, instead of the twenty, thirty pounds of ordinance and toys that were actually stowed.<br/><br/>Rather than getting involved in the somewhat closed conversation going on in the room, Brian headed into the corridor to take a quick glance around.  After ascertaining the location of the galley and the head, he went up to the hub . . .<br/><br/>. . . and wasn't the first one there.  A quick nod was spared for both women.  But, he didn't introduce himself.  There'd be time later when everyone was together.  Then he could be introduced once instead of seven or eight times.  So, he grabbed a seat near the edge of the room, where he could be inconspicuous.