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View character profile for: Rowan Fox
Ey up? (Landing day... times' got a bit wibbly...)
When the young kids were out of eyesight, Rowan started to double-time it back to his cabin. An hour was a tight time frame to gather all the parts and tools needed. Happily for him, his previous bought of organisation meant finding what he needed didn't take a whole lot of time. He loaded his sled with an appropriate assortment of parts and tools, as well as some extra gear should any other ships birthed at the docks be interested. Seemed a wasted opportunity to go all that way and not be prepared. Rowan would be able to remove, fix and fit most parts, save for the few more specialist things that needed their own particular tools, he didn't have the coin to be that well equipped.
As he pulled the tarp over his haul, Doodle nipped out of the cabin and clambered in amongst the bits and pieces. She seemed restless until Rowan added a small blanket, which small, snowy-furred creature happily snuggled into. The man rolled his eyes and secured the bungee cords. He hesitated then, thinking of his brief encounter with Marisol and whether it might be wise to arm oneself. Eventually he decided to do so, taking his Webley Service Revolver, loading it and tucking away in a shoulder holster. The folks from the Lunar Veil may well be the fine sort, but he was carting a decent chunk of gear, it wasn't a risk worth taking. That done he took up the slack on his sled and starting his trek to the docks.
Sure enough the Lunar Veil was not difficult to find, though Rowan wasn't entirely sure he understood why the teenage lass was so proud. It was probably twice as old as he was, and that was assuming it was one of the later series. Maybe it was a vintage thing? He'd be curious to see how the old gal was put together, but less secure about taking to space in her. She'd have to have been well looked after, perhaps she'd been overhauled on the inside?
Pushing his internal musings to the back of his mind, Rowan pulled his sled up to the Lunar Veil's open hold. He was about 5 minutes outside of the agreed hour's meetup. Military habits made that sit mighty uncomfortably with Rowan, he should be at least a quarter of an hour early. There was a sign seeking crew and passengers with instruction to go inside. He did so, his foot falls changing from the crunch of compacted snow to the clank of thick soles on metal. The shelter did little to abate the child of New Kasmir's frigid air.
"'Lo?" Rowan called out, he couldn't immediately see anyone. "Got some parts here, ordered up by your crew chief." That kid had better not have been gorram pulling his leg when he said that, otherwise Rowan was about look like a right arse.