Jack enters the dining room and sits at his assigned table. He glances around the room, taking in the view, attempting to size up everyone and everything in sight.
"Hello, all," Jack says. "My name's Jack, Jack Wilson. Looks like I'll be joining this outfit. I work for the Daily News. Maybe some of you have heard of it--it's a lovely little rag covering this fair city."
Olof greets Jack with a firm handshake. "Olof Eriksson, mining engineer. I'm going to supervise the drilling." The Swedish engineer turns towards Albert Gilmore. "I guess we will work together. I have studied the blueprints for the improved drill. Impressive workmanship!"
Jack returns Olof's handshake. "The pleasure's mine." Turning toward Albert, Jack nods and smiles. "It seems that you two can fill me in on some of the mechanics of the operation. It's hard to make things like that interesting for my readers, and I confess that I don't know much about it all."
Olof laughs. "It is an interesting subject, perhaps we can help you popularise the workings of the drill. I'm convinced that you will have no shortage of subjects to write about. These expeditions are rather complicated matters or so I believe. This is of course my first polar expedition."
Clark entered the room and quietly sat down at the table, so as not to interrupt the discussion. Convinced that everyone else was paying attention to the two men talking about drilling equipment, he produced a samll flask from his jacket and poured some of its contents into his glass before replacing it.
"It's gonna be a long night," Clark said to himself before taking a drink.
Olof saw that the new-comer had added something to his drink. "You don't have anything to share? I never has understood this prohibition of America. It was some time ago I took a real drink."
Clark handed the flask to the foreigner. "Clark Michaels: surgeon, psychiatrist and veteran of the war to end all wars. Trust me, prohibition is a minor inconvenience at best. It's not as if you can't find liquor if you look hard enough. Hell, doctors like myself are still allowed to prescribe whiskey."
Clark took another drink. "For medical purposes, of course," he added, winking.
Last edited by GaryTheNerd on Sun Jul 09, 2006 10:30 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Albert Gilmore turns away from the conversation about Pabodie's drill, towards Clark. His face is quite hideously scarred and discoloured by burns, his head is hairless and his outer ear lobes have been burned away. Yet his eyes and smile show a man at peace with himself, "It is good to meet you Doctor Michaels, I too served in the Great War - I'm afraid I had the misfortune to encounter a German flame-thrower at Saint-Mihiel. I could see you about one of your persciptions later, eh?"
Louis Laroche a stocky Canadian wireless operator, who is smoking his third cigarette of the evening laughs, "Be careful around Mr Starkweather with that whiskey Clark, he doesn't understand prohibition any more than anyone else, but he doesn't want any adverse publicity for his expedition."
Louis's deep voice has a strong Quebec accent, but his English is clear, "Maybe you could give me some advice Clark, I have been told I must stop smoking before we reach the ice - something to do with the altitiude, but I enjoy it so much. Perhaps you can help?"
The graduate Samuel Winslow listens intently to the conversation at the table, but seems content to eat rather than talk for now.
Smiling at Louis, Jack says, "Well, you needn't worry about adverse publicity from me about the 'medicine'--as long as you don't pass me up entirely, that is. I know the difference between a personal vice and a public one."
Continuing, Jack remarks, "I myself have some interest in the operation of radios, Mr. Laroche. Perhaps we can 'talk shop' later. I must admit that I find more natural appeal in the wireless than I do in the drill."
"I be happy to talk shop later," says Louis taking another drag from his cigarette, "We will have powerful radios for the expedition, and will be transmitting back to the whole world, via our support ship."
Clark turned to Louis. "You may want to look into taking some chewing tobacco with you. It should help fight your cigarette cravings and its less than glamorous nature should help reduce your disire, at least for the duration of the trip."
Medical bag in hand, Charles Graves strides to the table. "My apologies gentlemen, I was called to assist in a medical emergency in another part of the hotel." Extending his arm he shakes hands with everyone at the table and introduces himself. "So what have I missed?"
"I hope your patient made it," Jack says, smiling. "In any case, we were just getting to know one another a little, and we talked drills and radios for a while, and about developments in 'medicine' ..."
His eyes drifting over to another table, catching sight of Kitt, Jack continues, as much to himself as anyone, "I do think I see an interesting ... story over at that other table. I do wonder what that's all about."
"A medical emergency Dr. Graves? Nothing seriously I hope? We wouldn't want any mishaps before this expedition will begin. I hope your skills won't be needed on this trip, but it's safe to know that someone of the mecial profession is accompanying us. Olof Eriksson, mining engineer originally from Stockholm, Sweden at your service." Olof shook hands with the doctor.
Graves chats and listens to the speaches until Lawrence enters and approches the head table. The Professor carefully leans forward and whispers to the rest of his table. "He has a pistol in his right hand, if anyone is armed it may be advisable to use your weapon if he makes any sudden movements."
