[i]"Already told me that. Got it."[/i] The [i]Rosemary[/i] swings into low altitude over the hangar floor, and its landing gear unhinges as it touches down into the Infinity. The cockpit windshield rises with a hiss of depressurization and escaping oxygen, and a mountain of a man with a large feline companion at his side exit the starfighter, paw and boot striking the hangar floor. The feline, a mix between lynx and tiger with shining white fur striped black and green eyes, pads forward next to his human partner, a 6'4 white man with somewhat long, tussled black hair, blue eyes, and various facial scars. He wears metal body armor painted black and white, a red cape billowing behind him and a gray bandana tied around his forehead. Various utility belts cover the armor, sheathing a chrome rapier at the man's hip, an opal zweihander greatsword beneath his cape, and a mechanized box at his other hip. His left arm also looks to be mechanical, a prosthetic. This must be Bastion. "So is dis where dese real tough nïggas be? Citrus, or some shit?" the feline says, speaking English with a ghetto accent. "Cyprus. And apparently so." Bastion replies as he surveys the hangar around him. [spoiler]Please describe hangar.[/spoiler]