Meeting the Knight

[Ramke]

Whitaker stood in front of the canteen, the stench of spilled alcohol filling her nostrils from even this distance away. The Freeport was never a place for a ruly and organised lot, primarily frequented by bored "locals" and overworked people from all walks of life instead. It was quite small and surprisingly devoid of people at this time, just a few groups chatting here and there over a pint. It wasn't that hard to notice the more well-dressed man of sitting alone near the bar, right next to a spilled coffee cup nearby, looking at her.

It probably wasn't hard for Graves to realise that she's part of the Battlegroup - in fact, it wasn't hard for anyone. A full Navy pilot's outfit barring the helmet, carrying a sidearm in a second's reach. The turn of heads didn't make it much easier for Whitaker, it was just an extra aspect to contribute to getting a headache from this mess. Despite the fact that she did look completely out of place, Battlegroup members weren't all that rare of a sight on the Freeport - it was the only reliable place where they could get the basic supplies to continue surviving. Still, it wasn't all -that- common of a sight for the locals to stop staring.

The bartender behind the man started yelling obscurities and calling him mentally ill, to put it softly. It was at that point Whitaker hoped it was someone else, changing her glance to other people in the canteen in hopes to find someone similar. She probably should have checked his appearance in the briefing beforehand...

"Graves! We're going!" she yelled out into the canteen and quickly left back through the entrance. She leaned on the wall next to the door, crossing her arms and waiting for Graves to come out.

At this point, she was praying it wasn't the "star" of the night that was going to follow her out.