Carlos sipped his brandy, sitting in a corner away from the crowd. He generally drank by himself unless he was with Jack, preferring to isolate himself should he start dwelling on the past. It was a cold night and he had no desire to crawl into bed, the cold making him restless. It probably had to do with childhood and helping the family prepare should winter take food, amongst other things.

His snifter was low, apparent in the way he idly swirled his glass, the glass barely changing from clear to caramel. He only offered a look to the barmaids, ( wondering who would come by. )

Carlos pinched the bridge of his nose. He didn't anticipate being as long as he was, and apparently there was commotion of a plausible venture out east. He snorted; he just came back from Emberlay. Surely people noticed that the medic, of all people, was missing from the crew. He hoped otherwise.

He opened the door, finding a rather unsettling surprise to see his chair was kicked over. His papers were messed up as well, scattered all over the floor. ( Well, someone was pissed. )

five years ago.

Carlos was an impressive one.

He had been aboard Ghost for at least several months. He had been recruited through the Akslepain, scouted to be a medic for a traveling ship. He had sat on the offer, wanting to talk to his expectant wife and two children at the time, after they had opened their marriage for their sake. It scared him, to be so far from home, to be so close to where his father was. But nothing ventured, nothing gained, ( as the saying went. )