<div class="floatright">(http://i814.photobucket.com/albums/zz70/StevenMGabriel/Inquisitor1321599041815.jpg)</div>Hwan Zhou hated warp travel most of all. Stick him in a trench, threaten to have him flogged. Point him at a hopeless position and send him with nothing but a few men with lasguns and a shovel. It didn’t matter so much as hurling oneself through the warp did whether it was a well traveled trade lane or a desperate search for a place to transverse into real-space. The crew at this point would either begrudgingly love him or hate him for it was the crew itself that was the focus of most of his interactions. He learned names of ranking members under ArchMilitant Axis, He played pranks on the kitchen crew and laboring ratings. He chased robes down in the engine room whether the mechanicum engineseers found Imperial attractive or not. There was a little passing around of contraband to groups that looked to need it the most. Everything in his power was done to be a nuisance and stick his nose into business that was not his own as ‘innocently’ as possible. It was likely this would only perpetuate the idea in Lord Captain Xanatov’s mind that he was a spy.<br/><br/>In truth, most of this annoyance was to take the crew’s mind off the things that were going on. He kept careful watch on Nikolai from the shadows of the ships corridors and a close eye on Arban. He was no stranger to the things that went on in a psykers head and whether the rest of the crew had discovered that he himself had some control over the powers of the warp himself or not was irrelevant. He didn’t have to be<em> trusted</em>to be<em>respected</em>did he? It was still going to be a tough thing to pull off in the coming days of course. While it may seem backward to release a batch of sting powder he’d been saving since his time on the planet into one of the regiment’s communal showers and expect any kind of respect, it took the mind off the constant looming of feeding off your neighbors flesh, didn’t it? There were already countless other infractions he'd heaped upon the different sections of the ship. How anyone could smile and keep a spring in his step with all that was happening amongst the crew could rightly be construed as a sign of madness when really…Hwan Zhou knew that things could be so much worse during these tumultuous days of travel.<br/><br/>He jaunted down the corridor with that same mask of cheerful vigor as always past the main lift to the bridge once they’d come out of warp-space walking one boot over the other. Men and women rushing down the hall to go about the emergency procedures needed to quell the machine spirits and react to whatever ruckus was now going on in real-space. By the time he got to the bridge he held half a sandwich in his mouth and tilted his head around the room despite the leather strip over his eyes as if he could actually see through it. Another bread encased section of food with ground meat and a little subtle greenery in his left hand still completely untouched Hwan Zhou made his way cautiously into the Bridge and tiptoed up to the collection of crew that were watching The Navigator likely deciding if they should help him or shoot him. Both hands now full when he pulled the sandwich out from between his teeth he leaned against a console a few feet from Arban and cleared his throat.<br/><br/>”Hwoooo. Awaiting orders, Captain-my-Captain.” Which was followed by a much quieter and almost pouting tone to Arban “brought you a rat-burger…” whom looked like he wouldn’t be eating again for…quite some time now even as Hwan Zhou meekly held out the likely stolen ration from the officers mess.<br/>