Lucius walks into the harbour at a leasurely pace, hands in the pockets of his cargo pants. He is out enjoying the beautifully warm night, but looking for something specific apparently. He walks towards the harbour master. Shirtless and still slightly damp, Aadzrian stands staring out to sea, his lanky Timonae frame probably an odd sight out in the middle of New Luna. He doesn't appear to be paying much attention at first, but the sound of Lucius' approach does merit a quick glance, and then a nod. Jantine whispers: I'm not dealing with another asshole from the militia right now.