<div class="floatleft">(http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m8e8abe2ak1qhbf0mo1_1280.jpg)</div><strong>Harry Lloyd</strong><br/><br/>All his life, Harold "Harry" Lloyd was one thing above all others, a man of precision. Precise dress, precise pace, precise time management. So it was rather telling of his state that when he arrived at the check-in only a few minutes before boarding call, he was looking rather dishrevelled and harried. Things had been going wrong for him all morning, it felt like; the jet lag that had caused him to miss his alarm, the pushy cab driver that had forced him to skip breakfast beyond an apple and a glass of orange juice, the traffic jam that had delayed him getting to the airport...<br/><br/>Still, he had made it, and he breathed out a long sigh of relief as he checked in his luggage and made his way over to the waiting area, almost stumbling into a chair and rubbing his face with a relieved sigh. "Made it, thank heaven." he said, as he then noticed that several of the buttons in his shirt were in the wrong holes. Muttering a little bit, he unfastened them, and then buttoned it up properly. "It's always something, isn't it, boya..." he muttered. "Next I'll be told I'm in the wrong terminal, just you wait and see.." He then shook his head. "Come on now, Harry-boy, cheer up, it could be worse, like. Could be stuck in the cheap seats of one of those sardine planes.." he remarked, trying to think positive.