Julian Grayson A young blond stepped out of his Griffin light fighter and gave the developing world a somewhat skeptical look as he took a deep breath. The colony didn't seem like much from orbit: a somewhat barren world that has become one of the hotspots for Leeds refugees. That resulted in a hubs of small prefab buildings spread across the area, although the main spaceport seemed slightly more advanced.
As the man combed his medium wheah-colored hair backwards with his head, he walked steadfastly down the path away from the port, eventually running across the Black Flag Alehouse. With a slight smirk, he changed course and walked through the entrance. Wearing his dark-brown leather jacket, he didn't stand out among the patrons, all of whom he quickly glanced over as he walked in. The pilot noticed that the bartender was already busy talking to some other people, so he just occupied a free spot by the counter and decided to wait, with a bored expression on his face.
Assuming he'd get noticed, he'd greet the bartender with a nod and a curt "Hi" followed by a request: "Give me the strongest thing you have." The only peculiar thing that one would notice about the man was a squinty look (some might even consider it arrogant) that he'd give with his shrewd green eyes.
