Mister Johnston chuckled, finishing the last of his drink, as he listened to Miss Lamarr. "I cannot blame you; for all his integrity, he could sell iceboxes to eskimos."<br/><br/>Standing, he placed his own shot glass next to Miss Lamarr's. "Fair enough. I have my own preparations to make for when I disembark." Making sure his Briefcase was exactly where it was supposed to be, he smiled slightly, then left Miss Lamarr's office, heading back to his quarters.<br/><br/>Ahead of the Zeppelin itself, what could be considered 'trouble' brewed; an ominous-looking thunderhead churned and boiled in the skies to the north of the airship, sharp gusts of wind already sending feelers to buffet against the ship's blue hide.