[color=007236]"Och, what a lot of trash."[/color]

A rather large gruff looking man in marine uniform spouts as he downs the thick and unappealing substance that they call food around here. Sitting just across the way from a junior officer, both in stature and rank. Scratching at his beard in some sort of quizzical notion he speaks again, this time more directed towards the young one unknowingly sitting with him, [color=007236]"I can tell ya feel the same lad, 'ahmean who actually enjoys this drool? Naw us men need real food, meats and strong drinks. Whadya say?"[/color] At this point the man was speaking quite boisterously, but that's simply how he gets very often, in all honesty he was wasting time without having to worry about appearing before a gaggle of marines. Hell, he hardly even knew what his mission was going to be, let alone how he would present it. Sometimes this life can be stressful.

Commander Ferghus had it in his mind that he'd use the bit of time that he had to scout out the general populace of this base without alerting to them of his status, as he was newer than most around these parts. But in actuality it was something more akin to enjoying the company of the less disciplined officers. After all, he wasn't as keen on locking up pirates for petty crimes like most of the big wigs, but it isn't his place to say what needs to be done after all. 

His general impression of the place was something along the lines of, "This sure is a 'sty" and that was just the way he liked it, perhaps such lax nature was due to his pirate upbringing or maybe he just didn't like the cut of the higher-ups gib. Whatever the case, Ferghus enjoyed the position he held and believes it to be a proud honor, and isn't too keen on rising through the ranks too quickly if it removes that simple feel of gallantry.