As he stood at the forecastle of the HMS Pegasus, Alexander could not help but recall how long he had been waiting a long time for this moment. Not with anticipation or dread, but with a desire for the moment to arrive so the next could come. He was a man of action, and to be tied up in hospital after taking a shot to the gut had delayed the launch of the vessel by three weeks. English sailors were not keen to risk their necks in the skies over the Atlantic, and he would not blame any for moving on to better fortunes.

Still, he was hopeful that the ship would have a successful launch. He'd seen the letters from the Admiralty concerning their mission, and it wasn't looking like the delay of his hospital stay may have doomed them already. But there was still a chance to make it work, to stop the Emperor before the Coalition fell apart in the fields of Prussia.

The fiery haired, lithe captain merely held position at the helm of the craft, arms behind his back, sword in its sheathe and pistol loaded and ready to fire. The smog of London hung in the air constantly these days with all the ships docked on the Thames for repair and refit.The bright red cloth of his overcoat and ornamental pauldrons were already beginning to take on an ash-gray tone in the minutes he'd been standing on deck.

"Well," he mumbled, looking to the docks beside the Pegasus, "Let's see who has remembered their duty to King and Country..."

He reached into his jacket, withdrew the crew manifesto, and waited to see who would arrive for the ship's maiden voyage.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gEWS5dGSDOc

Briggs was inside the ship she was checking the engines again, she just felt that something may happen, after hearing the captain had been shot before the original take off, it left her with a feeling of uncertainty that they will stay in the air long. Briggs had taken her coat off and hung it on a coat rack near the door to the top deck, she was sweating from the heat the engines were putting out, she wiped some sweat from her forehead onto her gloves. When Briggs was finish checking the engines she went over to the door leading to the top deck and grabbed her coat, she left the engine room and went into the cool air out side.

Briggs put her coat on and was greeted by the smog that lingered in London's skies, she put her hands inside of her coat's pockets before walking to the helm next to the captain, she took a moment to look at the other ships that were docked nearby, she reached into her coat and pulled out a small leather case that looked like a cylinder and opened it, she took out a cigar and placed it into her mouth, she wasn't gonna smoke it, knowing that smog and smoke wouldn't mix well.

" Well cap the engines are ready and prep for our departure, just thought I'd tell you this before anyone came so you can just take off when everyone arrives." Briggs told him before savoring the taste of her cigar, she leaned on the railing and looked up to the sky, " can't wait till we get up there so I can actually smoke this instead of just savoring the taste." she said.

When Garrett and Hal first arrived aboard the HMS Pegasus, their first stop was, of course, the plane hangar of the ship. They wanted to get a close look of their new aircraft, the "Bronze Albatross". It was large, yet also aerodynamically speedy. The only weapons installed at the moment were the machine-guns on the wings. Although, the list given to them outlined much more equipment that their plane could bring into battle. Garrett looked around while Hal hopped into the Albatross. All around them, other pilots were checking and making adjustments to their planes. The hangar appeared to be able to carry a small group of three planes. The amount was nowhere near that of the squadrons on the HMS Orca, but Garrett never did trust in numbers winning a fight.

"Garrett! The manual didn't lie. This thing has far more controls than our previous fighters." He said. Garrett simply chuckled. "Then we better start memorizing then." He said. Hal climbed out of the aircraft and took another look at it. "The Royal Navy isn't keen on funding plane manufacturing just yet. Part of the reason our jobs were created was to prove their effectiveness. Are we really up to the task...?" Hal thought out loud. Garrett simply replied with a strong pat on the back of his head. "If you keep thinking like that, we won't be. It's not our responsibility to make planes look good. Our responsibility is to The Crown. All we have to do is to do our jobs the best we can. If planes really aren't as useful as airships, then there's nothing we can do to change that. If they are, then we'll show them in a good light from simply doing what we were told to do." He explained, trying to ease his co-pilot's anxiety.

Hal nodded. "I suppose you're right." He said. "Of course I am! Now come on, we better report to the Captain of the ship before he has a fit." Garrett replied, walking towards the ladder at the end of the hangar.

---

Upon emerging onto the deck of the ship, The two pilots were immediately greeted with the London smog. "The high-altitude suits would be of use on ground-level with this sort of air..." Hal exclaimed. "Just wait till we're in the air. One of the best parts of flying is that the smoke can't reach you." He replied.

They managed to spot a formally dressed man at the helm of the ship. He appeared to be conversing with a purple-haired female. They assumed he was the captain. Climbing up to the helm, the two saluted at the man. "Are you Captain Lorraine?" Garrett asked. "Fighter Pilots Garrett Ulman and Hal Carson reporting for duty, sir." He continued. Whether it was really the captain or not, it would be wise to show respect to the crew of the vessel. After all, they barely knew any of them, and it would be wise to give a good impression.

Alexander paused a moment, giving First Engineer Briggs his full attention as she emerged on deck. A bit rough around the edges. But by all accounts, she knew her machines and that was all he needed of her. He glanced at the cigar, noting the band around its center. Jamaican. British made.

"Engineer Briggs," he said. "The Pegasus is not outfitted like any other brig. We have a wooden frame, but the iron plates added to the hull increase our weight exponentially. Unfortunately, the construction crew did not increase our coal storage to compensate. The Crown has dispatched a 'First Rate' magician to keep the engines running in the event we burn through our coal too quickly. I trust you will work well with this one? If there are any disagreements, it could send all of us to the bottom of the sea."

The rivalry between the 'gearheads' and 'mystics' in the Royal Military Academy was already legendary. It was always the case when the old clashed with the new, but magicians normally served on the Men o War of the fleet, and engineers stuck to the brigs and frigates. This would probably be the first time the two would be expected to work in tandem with one another...

---

With an almost uncanny sixth sense, Alexander detected the salutes behind him and turned to face Garret and Hal. Returning the gesture, he said "Gentlemen. The airships below are experimental, as you probably surmised. The Royal Navy could've had a frigate for the cost of the lot of them. What you do on this mission will determine whether production proceeds or not. I will not be able to give direct commands in the heat of battle, so I will expect you to use your best judgement when engaging the enemy- if we engage the enemy at all."

Nodding at engineer Briggs he said "Our chief engineer will be able to offer you assistance in any retrofits you'd like to make to improve the craft- if you ask her nicely."

Richard sat his bag down as he came to the top of the Gangway and came to rigid attention saluting the flag then Deck Watch Officer an snapping out.
Lieutenant Richard York Requests permission to Board Sir!
Permission granted Rich hands the other Lieutenant his orders as proof of his position.
On his chest glitters the Medals of the Nile, Trafalgar and Copenhagen awarded to any officer wounded in those battles.
The Sergeant Major of Marines stiffened as he examined the young officer upon seeing his merits as do the two Marines at guard.
His papers examined and verified the Officer of the deck orders a seaman to take his things below till the Sergeant Major suggest he summon a Marine to carry their commander's bag to his quarters.
Rich relinquished his bag and rifle to the Marine keeping his twin sabers and complements the OOD for his help and asks might he report to the Captain so that he know he will sail with a Commander of Marines.
Informed that the Captain awaits upon the Quarter Deck Richard Thanks the OOD then turns to the Sergeant Major saying
"I will be Inspecting ship's complement at five bells unless the Captain orders do not allow.
The Sergeant Major is briefly surprised that his new commander wants to inspect in two hours but is pleased as well. His men are top notch and always ready for inspection or he cracks their skulls and now it seems his new commander is of the best traditions.
The Sergeant Major salutes and Richard returns it then heads to the quarter deck to present himself to the Captain.
Only one year now a Marine by the grace of God an the Admiralty's wisdom Richard plans to apply himself with all his heart and soul. Already he has proven himself an expert with a rifle though not as good as the Sergeant he'd guess. His uniform unlike his old navy Blues has the dark blue shoulders and red body of an Officer of the ship's close order fighters, the Marines.
Some officers would have seen such an appointment as a career killer but not Rich for he'd learned to respect the sharpshooters and Scouts of the Fleet. He didn't seek glory nor position as others did for he is a different sort, as the Swords Master had called him Richard was a Lion in search of battle.
His black knee high boots polished like ebony mirrors announced his approach of the Quarter deck as if he marched on parade.
On seeing the ship's Captain Richard again became a rigid post as he came to attention and Saluted then waited the Captain's acknowledgment.

Trinais said
Alexander paused a moment, giving First Engineer Briggs his full attention as she emerged on deck. A bit rough around the edges. But by all accounts, she knew her machines and that was all he needed of her. He glanced at the cigar, noting the band around its center. Jamaican. British made."Engineer Briggs," he said. "The Pegasus is not outfitted like any other brig. We have a wooden frame, but the iron plates added to the hull increase our weight exponentially. Unfortunately, the construction crew did not increase our coal storage to compensate. The Crown has dispatched a 'First Rate' magician to keep the engines running in the event we burn through our coal too quickly. I trust you will work well with this one? If there are any disagreements, it could send all of us to the bottom of the sea."The rivalry between the 'gearheads' and 'mystics' in the Royal Military Academy was already legendary. It was always the case when the old clashed with the new, but magicians normally served on the Men o War of the fleet, and engineers stuck to the brigs and frigates. This would probably be the first time the two would be expected to work in tandem with one another...With an almost uncanny sixth sense, Alexander detected the salutes behind him and turned to face Garret and Hal. Returning the gesture, he said "Gentlemen. The airships below are experimental, as you probably surmised. The Royal Navy could've had a frigate for the cost of the lot of them. What you do on this mission will determine whether production proceeds or not. I will not be able to give direct commands in the heat of battle, so I will expect you to use your best judgement when engaging the enemy- if we engage the enemy at all."Nodding at engineer Briggs he said "Our chief engineer will be able to offer you assistance in any retrofits you'd like to make to improve the craft- if you ask her nicely."

Briggs took the cigar out of her mouth, and turned to the captain, she leaned on the railing backwards, she looked to him with the cigar still in hand, " Don't worry, I'm not against magic or anything, as long as he or she doesn't mess with my work space, or is a racist then I'll be gold with you boss, But I'm going to be straight up with you, if they try to boss me around or are racist, then they won't last longer than a canary in a coal mine." Briggs said before putting the cigar back into her mouth, she waited for the Alexander to respond,

She looked over to Garret and took the cigar out her mouth again, she began to revolve the cigar in her hand while looking at him, " Don't worry, as long as you don't do anything to piss me off, you won't have to worry about modifications, just ask and I'll do what I can, but don't expect me to bring you back from the grave if you crash and burn to the ground or ocean, and if you do survive that don't expect me to fish your ship or ass out of the ocean, or to fix it if it's beyond repair." Briggs told him.

"Gentlemen. The airships below are experimental, as you probably surmised. The Royal Navy could've had a frigate for the cost of the lot of them. What you do on this mission will determine whether production proceeds or not. I will not be able to give direct commands in the heat of battle, so I will expect you to use your best judgement when engaging the enemy- if we engage the enemy at all." Captain Lorraine said.

"We'll do our damn best sir. Just point us at the enemy and tell us how many explosions you want to see." Garrett said with a grin, still saluting.

"Our chief engineer will be able to offer you assistance in any retrofits you'd like to make to improve the craft- if you ask her nicely." The Captain continued as he gestured at the half-African woman with purple hair. "Don't worry, as long as you don't do anything to piss me off, you won't have to worry about modifications, just ask and I'll do what I can, but don't expect me to bring you back from the grave if you crash and burn to the ground or ocean, and if you do survive that don't expect me to fish your ship or ass out of the ocean, or to fix it if it's beyond repair."

Garrett dropped his salute and chuckled. "If that's so, then you have absolutely nothing to worry about. Just bring us what we ask and we'll bring the bird back in one piece. No French plane has shot us down yet, and we're not going to start now." He said.

Turning to the side, he saw a formally dressed officer in red saluting near the captain. Garrett could see from all of his medals that he was a highly experienced soldier, brandishing medals from Trafalgar and other battles. "If you don't mind me suggesting, friend, you best keep those medals away when we're in battle. You might lose them, and the enemy isn't going to hesitate shooting you just because you have them pinned on your chest" Garrett said jokingly.

Chief Flynn entered The Pegasus via the loading bay. Technically speaking he should have taken the gangway, saluted the Officer of the Watch and requested permission to come aboard. He was much to old, and had far too little patience for that, though. He was the Senior Enlisted aboard the ship, and the Deck Captain besides, as such he answered to no man besides the Captian himself. Even if that hadn't been true; the loading bay, and the materials that the enlisted men were in the process of loading, were his resposibility.
It was a good thing he did, too. As he passed by one of the airmen nearly dropped the barrel he had been trying to carry on his own. The Chief reacted completely on instinct, covering the ground between him and the man and helping to catch the barrel before it hit the floor. He nearly turned to leave before a distinctive smell caught his attention.
"Airman, is this barrel black powder?" Chief Flynn said, his eyes flashing with anger. "Did you just nearly drop a barrel of black powder in my loading bay because you were too stupid to get help to carry it?" He continued, the volume of his voice raising subtley, as his face began to flush with anger. "You are to report to me immediately after the ship launches. You are now in charge of making sure absolutely nothing goes wrong during the loading of this ship, and gods help you if you screw up."
The Chief then proptly turned on his heel, and strode off in the direction of the Quarter Deck. It wasn't long before he noticed an airman leaning agaist one of the walls. The Chief stopped in front of the man, who seemed not to notice until he was pulled to attention by his collar. "Boy, this ship does not need your help in holding up the bulkhead." Chief Flynn hissed, holding the airman's face uncomfortably close to his own. "There's work to be done in the loading bay, now get!" He said, releasing the man with a quick shove. After watching the man stumble over himself to get away, Chief Flynn turned back in the direction of the Quarter Deck feeling quite a bit better after the scolding.

---

When Chief Flynn stepped out onto the Quarter Deck, he was whistling to himslelf. He paused, to survey the deck and the rigging. Even with the smog of London and without the familiar sway of an airship underway, Chief Flynn felt more at home than he had in a long time. He knew it was only a matter of time before he could smell the aether and feel the wind on his face again.
Focusing again on the task at hand, the Chief noticed a gaggle of young officer types standing on the Forecastle. Assuming that one of them might be able to point him in the direction of the ship's captian. Upon reaching the group the first thing he noticed was the cigar being held by a tall African woman.
"Ma'am," He said with a scowl "Despite the outward apperance, this ship is mostly wood, and those sails are fresh oilcloth. Furthermore, even now barrels of black powder are being loaded onto the lower decks... If you light that thing on one of my decks, you will be lucky if the worst thing that happens is me throwing it overboard." Before the woman could respond, the Chief noticed the Captains epaulates on the redheaded young man. His brow knit together, and it was imposible to conceal the slight frown that appeared on his face. The Captain was barely more than a boy... though, Chief Flynn thought to himself, I suppose it does make sense with the war. Older men were likely to either get themselves killed, or had the good sense to be promoted to positions away from the front.
Despite his reservations, Chief Flynn extended his hand in greeting. "...and you would be the Skipper." His voice was deep and friendly, with the echo of an Irish brogue that remained to a man that hadn't been home in over a decade. "I'm Chief Warrent Officer Emmet Reilly O'Flynn, Lord Mulgrave of the Admiralty has assigned me as your Deck Captain."

Briggs smiled at the what the gunship pilot said, she thought that his overconfidence was warming and would get them far," Well don't worry, I have engineering in my blood, also I would also ask that when ever your off the ship look for parts that we can add onto your fighters, you never know what junk can be deadly out in the air." she told him before she stood up straight,

When Chief Flynn had basically greeted her with a scowl, told her that she couldn't smoke on the upper deck she frowned and took out her leather cigar case, she put it back with the rest and put the case into her inner duster pocket, she licked her lips trying to get the flavor of the cigar from them, then performed hand gestures with her hands pointed towards Chief Flynn.

" Three things wrong with what you just said sir. I hate to correct you but I don't raise and lower our sails so there is no chance I'd burn them with the cigar. Also I wouldn't smoke under the deck, the smoke would make it too hard to see and the tobacco could ruin the machinery since I work in the engine. Lastly if I were to smoke I'd do it at the stern or where ever the wind is blowing so they wouldn't hit the sails." Briggs said in a calm tone.

She put her hands into her Duster pockets and watched as Chief Flynn examined Alexander and extended his hand towards him for a handshake, she just sighed, she hated people that tried to keep her down with rules and regulations, but if she had to she would hold off smoking till she was off the ship and they were docked or stop all together, but both would be a true challenge for her, she felt that she wouldn't really like Chief Flynn or his constricting rules.

The sky was blue, the clouds were minimal, and Miklòs Puskás couldn't have dreamed of more perfect conditions under which to set sail. Standing just short of the gangplank, Miklòs took a moment to perfect his appearance. A quick slick of his hand through his militant crew cut hair, a tug to the tail of his raven black uniform to press out the creases, and a subtle dust to the First Officer insignia woven into his shoulders. While his facial features did little to express it, deep down, Miklòs was uncharacteristically nervous. It had been months since his last official position on a governmental sanctioned vessel let alone with crew he had not yet even met or even knew he could trust for that matter. But none of them needed to know that and if there was to be any chance of him proving to be a fine officer of the bridge, he needed to be solid as a rock when it came to confidence. With that in mind. He took his first strides onto the HMS Pegasus. It was rather dated in design. That was to be expected, but what the Pegasus lacked in sheer force, it more than made up for with the reputation of the Great British airforce.

Miklòs found his way to the bridge where quite a gathering had come to pay their respects to their glorified Captain. Already Miklòs cursed himself for not having been the first person aboard second only to the captain. His concerns were lessened as he glanced up to the skies for an estimate of the time. Perhaps they were all a little early from the designated set sail schedule. "Perhaps this wouldn't be such a rag-tag crew as I thought." Miklòs wondered to himself. "If you forgive the out of regulation hairstyles..." He made a rather slated glance to Briggs before stepping up to the Captain. A brisk click of his booted heels and a salute to the brow, Miklòs's eyes fixated on an invisible point behind the Captain's head. "Jó napot kívánok! (Good day) First Officer Miklòs Puskás, reporting for duty sir!" He introduced and finished the salute. In a more natural manner; "I took the liberty of reading your file Sir. Might I say, I look forward to this voyage with you." He gave off a sort of 'pretty boy' smile. Once the formalities were over, he began the process of meeting the rest of the crew.

His interest was immediately brought upon Flynn who was currently approaching both him and the captain after having scolding the engineer for having her fine fag (Totally cool here cause it's a cigar :P) out in the open. Miklòs waited for him to approach and glanced out of the corner of his eye to catch the man's nameplate. Miklòs immediately placed it as the attending Deck Officer for their voyage but if that was enough confirmation, the man addressed himself as such. Sizing him up, the old man looked as though he could have been Miklòs's father, though the accent ripped that thought right out. In either case, Flynn looked like the kind of officer who had washed out, spent far to much time in the military without really ever getting anywhere. Not to dishonor his position but Miklòs figured that wouldn't a man of his distinction be sitting in a map room pushing around wooden troop props? Miklòs gave the gentleman a nod. "Good to have you with us Mr. Flynn"

Leftenant Graham was familiar with the ship's Captain. They had convalesced together in Portsmouth before being assigned to the Pegasus. "Digger" was curious to see the new Brig. Although he was accustomed to the heavier armed first rate ship, he knew the advantages of the smaller Brig and was interested in his new assignment as Gunnery Officer.

This day, Leftenant Graham was assigned officer of the deck (OOD). He would stand at the top of the gangway, salute the boarding sailors in his dress blues and his solitary Campaign medal denoting his participation in the Battle of Trafalgar. Part of his duty was to size up the crew as they boarded. They appeared to be disciplined enough to be in uniform, but only time would indicate whether they could perform their tasks within the parameters of the situation. He was really curious to see how much speed the old girl could take with a full head of steam.

The day Leftenant Hamish Graham arrived on board, he inspected the gun decks after stowing his personal belongings in his quarters. As Gunnery Officer, he had the third billet on the port side of the Brig. He would share it with an Ensign who would assist him as a Gunnery Division officer. The small nimble vessel had a total of twenty-eight canon on the solitary gun deck. Two swivel mounted gatling guns were mounted both port and starboard on the foc'sil and a third up in the crow's nest.

On the gun deck, fourteen 24-pound cannons each with a crew of one Automatron and two humans. The weapon started in the rear position, its wheels butted against the blocks towards the inside of the ship. The human loader would load and prime the weapon making it ready to fire. Once the weapon was up, he would call, "gun up!" Next, the Automatron would then push the muzzle of the piece so it was in the forward position, its forward wheels touching the forward blocks and the muzzle sticking out of the portal. The gunner readied the lanyard by inserting it into the fuze and eyeballing what targets lay in front of it. Once the command of fire was given by the Gunnery officer or the gunnery Division Commander, he would pull the lanyard thereby discharging the piece and repeating the loading process once more.

Leftenant Hamish Graham was impressed with this new Ionized cannons and believed they would have a greater impact than the older pieces. He was sad not to see any 36-Pounders and waited to see the gatling guns in action rather than the shotgun like blast of the Carronades which raked the French ships on the HMS Royal Sovereign. But he was no longer with the Sovereign. He'd lost many mates on that old lady. A proud ships she were.

ToskaO said
Despite his reservations, Chief Flynn extended his hand in greeting. "...and you would be the Skipper." His voice was deep and friendly, with the echo of an Irish brogue that remained to a man that hadn't been home in over a decade. "I'm Chief Warrent Officer Emmet Reilly O'Flynn, Lord Mulgrave of the Admiralty has assigned me as your Deck Captain."

Alexander nodded solemnly, taking Emmet's hand in turn. His face remained smooth as cut stone as he spoke. "Lord Mulgrave chose well then. He assured me the best the Admiralty could offer for my crew and thusfar he has delivered. Welcome aboard, sir." The sharp interaction between the engineer and his chief deck officer was not a good start, however. O'Flynn was in the right on principle- the sparks from a cigar in the wrong part of this ship could set off a fire they could ill afford. But as the chief engineer, Briggs was undoubtedly aware of this. Better to move their conversation along, before it became a contest of authority. Alexander lifted his head, observing the breeze on the wind as it rippled the ship's flag. "I've noticed we have a strong northeasterly coming through today. Should allow us to make a good start into the Channel. Some of the crew is already below as well." He turned first to Briggs, then to O'Flynn, addressing them both. "Do you think we can be ready to fly on the next hour?"

Maykxor said
He made a rather slated glance to Briggs before stepping up to the Captain. A brisk click of his booted heels and a salute to the brow, Miklòs's eyes fixated on an invisible point behind the Captain's head. "Jó napot kívánok! (Good day) First Officer Miklòs Puskás, reporting for duty sir!" He introduced and finished the salute. In a more natural manner; "I took the liberty of reading your file Sir. Might I say, I look forward to this voyage with you." He gave off a sort of 'pretty boy' smile.

Alexander took a moment to return the salute of Miklòs.. "Miklòs Puskás? Good to have you aboard sir. I read a bit about your last tour. Took down two frigates, if I recall correctly?"

Briggs smiled to Alexander and nodded gently, " Of course we will, I told you that we are ready to take off a couple seconds a go, there shouldn't be any problems with the engine, I just checked it and everything, everything is fine, as long as nobody tampers with the vales or over stuffs the engine with coal, or the engine explodes. Also we will always be able to take off if I'm on this craft boss." she told the captain, she put her hands into her pockets and looked at Flynn not giving him a good look, the look was a mixed look of both your a jerk and leave me alone.

Feeling like she should check the engine, she started to ample over to the engine room door, she waved one of her arms into the air while she walked slowly, " If you don't mind me boss, I'm going to go back to my post in the engine room." she said towering over a majority of the other crew members and went directly to the engine room. When she was in the engine room she felt more at home, she tossed her coat onto the coat rack and started to commence an inspection of the engine,

Moving at a measured, steady pace, William Mycroft watched carefully as the HMS Pegasus loomed closer, eyes taking in every detail that he could possibly discern. As he approached the gangplank his stride slowed, allowing him a longer look at his new posting. The ship was, even from a glance, unlike any other that he'd ever seen, let alone served on. Armor plated, the brig was supposed to be both faster and tougher than other designs, a real lightning bruiser if he'd ever laid eyes on one. Her biggest problem, however, was coal; All that armor didn't leave a lot of room for coal storage, which is what most of these smaller ships used to keep the boilers going. Magicians, traditional thinking stated, were for Man 'o Wars and such, not for smaller vessels. Coal was plenty sufficient for them, no need to devote even one magician, let alone a team.

Which is why it was most unusual that he found himself posted here. The logic was sound, of course; Without much coal storage, the admiralty needed another fuel source on board if it wasn't enough. The logical choice was a magician, but instead of sending the usual minimum of a three-man crew, they sent him. He'd had a real shock at that one, nearly choked on his coffee. The more he heard about this posting, the more he had a sinking feeling about it. Mycroft had been pretty good about keeping his head down, but Trafalgar... Captain Martin hadn't bought his explanation of his whereabouts, and they both knew it. So much for not standing out.

No good pondering it.

Hands in the pockets of his coat, he noted that he'd reached the gangplank a few moments before, and had paused at the end of it. Shaking his head, as if his musings were cobwebs that he might dislodge, he began the ascent, setting foot on the deck of the ship a short time later, boots impacting against the deck quietly. The usual smog hovered about, but after a few year it was just expected. Twenty eight guns, by his count, and what looked like gatling guns in a few spots. Yes, the Pegasus was a new breed indeed.

His eyes didn't have to roam long to note the somewhat eclectic gathering of individuals around a central figure, clearly Captain Lorraine, judging by his garb, present up on the forecastle. Better report his presence, hand over his papers, et cetera, et cetera. Faster he did that, faster he could get belowdecks and see what, and who, he'd be working with for the duration of his stay. Truthfully, the "who" was more important. He could adapt to different equipment. But these smaller ships... Well, magicians weren't usually aboard, and being a living power source on board a ship where such people were expected yielded enough prejudiced people, he really hoped a lack of familiarity wouldn't indicate an abundance of prejudice.

But, dwelling on it wouldn't change things one way or the other. Time to get focused.

He crossed the deck to the forecastle, moving at a brisk but measured pace, coming to a stop a respectful distance away, hands still in his pockets. The captain was already having a conversation; Butting in wouldn't be polite, and judging by the apparent ranks of those involved, might in fact be downright foolish. He would speak when he was spoken to.

Richard heard the officer make comment on his uniform and bristled inside at such a low comment.
How he wished to respond to him with either formal challenge or simply a quick right cross but he wore the uniform of an officer of his majesty's marines and was expected to act as a gentleman.
Certainly as a gentleman he could have taken the comment as an insult to himself but also as a gentleman he was expected to be made of sterner stuff. As such he allowed the slight to slip off him as a duck would a raindrop.
He did though think that perhaps when time permitted he would address the slight with diplomatic approach that might remind the pilot of his manners.
It wouldn't be the first time that Rich had encountered a fellow officer with a foolish tongue but he knew that to address it with the threat of violence first was not an answer conducive of winning the war.
As he waited the captain's pleasure Rich's eyes took in all within his vision for soon this would be his battle ground. While he studied the deck he didn't allow his eyes to wander nor did he turn his head.