<div class="floatleft">(http://i.imgur.com/7HI4r.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Phil<br/><strong>Occupation:</strong>Scoundrel<br/><strong>Location:</strong>His Quarters, The Line, Outskirts of Mowa, Shadow; then the Bridge<br/><strong>Time:</strong>9/3/2505, Early Afternoon<br/><strong>With:</strong>Keri, Open<br/><br/>Phil was jolted out of his brief catnap by the ship suddenly regaining natural gravity, and the resultant shaking as it came back into atmosphere. He clung to the nearest steady object, a handhold installed in his bunk, and waited for it to subside. It wasn't too bad, then a sharp change in downward direction.<strong>"That can't possibly be good,"</strong>he muttered.<br/><br/>Sure enough, he got his explanation soon enough via the loudspeakers. So, there was a strike, and they were landing outside of the town. That... actually wouldn't be a problem, minus the whole "hitching a ride with someone else to the city" thing. Still, Mowa would be a decent enough oyster once he got there. Maybe he could pick up some new toys for his pistol once he was done cheating some poor bastards out of their poker money... yeah, that sounded good to him. Shadow had, after all, much more lax standards of weapon control than the Core. He had seen these little cylinder things that the Alliance Intel field agents used sometimes; they fitted on the end of a weapon, and they muffled the noise. Instead of a bang, you were more in for a pop. That was what had happened one time when he had managed to "borrow" one of them at the firing range, anyway. The field agents used this special kind of ammo he didn't manage to grab, made it even quieter, like a little whip-crack. Phil wasn't so certain he could find that kind of ammo out here, but at least he could probably find something like the cylinder.<br/><br/>As he headed up to the bridge to check and see if there was any group he could catch a ride out to the town with, Phil caught the tail end of an argument.<em>"The sooner we're done, the sooner we can take our own leave and I have no intention of wasting time."</em><br/><br/>Definitely Keri talking. Phil entered the room, and in his typical fashion, found himself leaning up against the doorframe.<strong>"Oh, don't tell me there aren't any good seats left,"</strong>he interjected to try to create a bit of levity. He suspected it would be lost on most of the present company, but at least they could all then direct their ire at him instead of at each other. He knew from experience that the ship ran smoothest when its three most critical crew members were getting along, and if they needed a common enemy, he'd be glad to volunteer for the time being.