Reginald Keystone
Location: The Ferry (Cargo)
Skills: Perception
Storage boxes upon storage boxes, duffels, rucks, and the like all set piled one atop another in organized, tidy rows and columns. To the untrained eye, it was merely a series of identical containers stored in some semblance of order. But to a military man, especially one of the British Empire, this was a roadmap as clear as any, minimizing the time required to locate any item which might be required upon short notice. As Reginald was a highly senior member of precisely that military, his sharp (if slightly ageworn) eyes studied over their practical supplies foremost with the intent to rule out anything of the sort, exonerating his own men from the suspect list. Or at least helping their cause in that regard.
What he actually saw did indeed do that, else showed the active, working intelligence of a man covering his tracks. Indeed there was evidence that someone had gone through their belongings, as far as he could tell, and attempted to replace the items individually in exactly the way they were packed. Unfortunately for their hopes at stealth, the British Military had regulation for every detail of such things, down to the manner in which socks were rolled together and rested in an individual's set of webbing for transport. Details were off. Changes of regulation attire put in with folds on the wrong side. Labels askew. Things which set their belongings apart as having been picked through and replaced, as if in systematic search of something. This would not do.
"Mr. Benaszewski," he began in businesslike voice,
"I've not gotten to the Museum pieces yet, but I do believe that thusfar nothing is missing. Be that as it may, everything has been pawed through by hands attempting discretion yet failing quite admirably - and I do not believe anyone from among my own soldiery is to blame, unless they were struggling to look like indigenous personnel. This is either a very crafty person (or persons), else very sloppy. Whichever route this travels upon, my good sir, someone needs to be clubbed about the face and head, then thrown overboard." After a second or two of consideration,
"And we likely should inform the Shipmaster of these transgressions, as I've not official authority here, you see."
Haring Reddish
Location: The Ferry (Elite Deck)
Skills: N/A
Corporal Reddish was blissfully unaware of the drama elsewhere, merely content to spend this part of the evening in the polite and surprisingly eventful company of someone who, looking back upon it, no one would actually believe chose to associate with him voluntarily. It was shrug worthy, really. If the importance of the evening to him was such that getting a picture with her was the only reason, that being to impress others at a later date, then he would likely be horribly ashamed at himself. The fact that she was famous was not (in and of itself) due reason for the desire for her company. Though if Reddish were honest with himself, it
did rather make the experience a little more exciting. Dangerous too, considering that the Lord Major's "Fellowship" had suffered casualties already. Josephine was the type that could inadvertently draw attention to herself. That being the case, perhaps it was a fortunate thing that she was seen with such an unlikely companion. No Hollywood star of the silver screen would be seen with a lowly Corporal on a riverboat. A mental shrug later, he figured that his comparatively workaday appearance was, in this instance, an excellent cover for them both. Subtle. And even if this lady was correct in her assessment of her ability to take care of herself, hopefully Reddish's presence would make such actions unnecessary.
Despite his slender frame and youngish features, The Corporal knew that he could handle himself quite well. His nickname on the Western Front, and the circumstances around how he got it, bore witness to the fact that a skinny kid from Nottinghamshire could accomplish much in the way of unbridled violence if he was too hungry and cold and desperate to be scared anymore. The touch of his own fame among the soldiery was a positive note, too. In a way, it was liberating. And in another, it was appalling. Replace him with any other young man crawling about in the freezing mud of the trenches, dealing with the same circumstances, and it was only a matter of time before they snapped and did something
monumentally stupid, too. He just happened to live through it. Then develop a talent. But that wasn't exactly him anymore. Oh, it was still in there somewhere, but he was a vastly different man now, of which
that was merely a part.
Reddish forced himself not to think upon specifics of the War, nor the details of his actions at that time. He had spent a glorious few moments with a charming young lady aboard a ship traveling up the Nile; an experience which he would carry with him in the years to follow. And to his credit, she did not run away screaming nor politely excuse herself for a pressing engagement elsewhere that she just remembered. So he would call this evening a success, overall. However, he did take a bit of a risk, offering further recreation in the form of acquiring drinks with Josephine, thusly extending the paired company of himself and the starlet. Well, as the saying went: "Faint Heart never won Fair Lady". He was never known to really have a faint heart, and while she was no one to be
won, persay, Reddish would take her continued presence as something highly positive, and her bowing out as simply a woman's prerogative for respectful self-determination. Nonetheless, if he did not throw the whole of himself into the situation, he just wouldn't be true to his nature. In work or in play, Corporal Haring D. Reddish acted fully in the present, as completely and thoroughly as humanly possible.
But in that moment, as he awaited an answer from his deck strolling companion, he kept his smile polite and his face otherwise neutral, just happy to be out and about with such charismatic company.
