Markus Durant

Markus grins, stepping away from the terminal and slipping inside the ship, offering the captain his right hand, hauling his duffel bag up with his left.

"D'you think she'd be the type to follow some ruffian like me to the dance, captain? Fine ship like this deserves better than a gunslinger like me. Of course, if you're hiring those with a good head on their shoulders, a strong back, and a fast gun arm... I'd be happy to tag along and pitch in for a bit of cashy money. Getting bored with the same old jobs on this rock."

At Dinner

Markus was already in the mess, having established it as his base of operations since the beginning of his stay. While his trunk and other gear stayed up in his quarters, a battered old electric guitar lurked a distance away from the tables, and the man usually lurked around the mess and kitchen unless work called him elsewhere.

He nods at the Captain's speech, piping up briefly to state "I'm in if you pay in pennies, captain. Good honest work and a bit of travel does the body good." Markus seems casually indifferent about the former status, choice of religion or past reputation of the crew. He offers a polite and friendly nod when each person introduces themselves, keeping a smile on his face.

He introduces himself with a trademark charming grin, brushing back his wavy black hair and looking from person to person. "Markus Durant, born on Paquin. I can pilot a shuttle and make sure it won't fall out of the sky, I can patch you up if the good Doctor over there isn't at hand, I can pick things up and move 'em, and I can handle any hostile situation with either bullets or fast-talk.

In short, I'm bloody useful. 's a pleasure to meet you fine and able-bodied people."

Markus peers at the arcane arrangement of meats, vegetables and bread upon his plate, bearing an expression which crosses over from awe into lust. He focuses his attention entirely upon the meal while he eats, savoring every last bite until the plate gleams white once more.