Varus/Annette

"You can do whatever, I wont stop you, but don't be a bloody idiot." Varus was, by now, more or less resigned to his fate. Younger had he been, he probably would have rebelled, but younger him was an idiot, and if the military wanted him dead, they'd need to do better than a ship crash.

"this is the south side you dolt." He stated blandly, before finally putting down the book and standing, "damn it I built these things and if I want to take 'em down, I will. I'm overriding your orders, because blowing up the ship is beneficial when the one giving the orders is an idiot."

He jerked back, eyes narrowing at the enthusiastic girl. "Well, currently the plan is to inform the captain of this flying junkyard that he needs to try harder and see about the odds of getting me a decent damn ship."

"He sighed, looking wistfully at the pile of notes before approaching his bag, passing her a pistol. "Three shots without reloading, so I hope you have your own." He muttered, pulling out at least five similar handguns and setting them in their holsters; two at his sides, one across his chest, one, (saftey on) in his boot and the final one he held.

"better than nothing, come on," he grabbed the flashy red coat from before and pushing the door open, almost immediately striding out without waiting for her to follow.

He looked over his shoulder with a deadpan stare, as though it should be obvious. "Even you should be able to figure it out, for God's sake." He didn't slow his stride as he plainly stated, "We're going to blow up the ship."

"They do." He confirmed, he was a soldier, through and through, that much was right, and soldiers were dogs. But this captain was /not/ his master, his master was in London, expecting him, and like the loyal dog he was, it didn't even cross his mind that the general was on their side, deciding he had outlived his use. "But I don't recall being given orders against this from the one with the right to do so."