[It has become something of a custom, her futile search through the clothing, weapon, and items stores for a familiar scrap of leather, an engraved handle, the sheen of oiled metal. Today, as every other day she's tried, Adele has little luck. But she searches all the same, hoping for some kind of closure or sign that her revolver has appeared in Luceti. She's trying to reach a strap of leather that looks like it might be her shoulder holster from the angle below, but at her height, and the height of the shelf, she cannot quite manage it. Even on her toes. She rocks back down on her heels, huffs, and crosses her arms, looking to one side for a step stool and sees...Admiral Norrington. Asking for his assistance would not be too far out of the question, would it?]
no subject
Good afternoon, Admiral.