Spike spends a portion of his time virtually every day in the little ramshackle tent city that is springing up around the arrival plaza. It's a place to barter, drink, gamble, swop gossip and generally pass the time.

He strides through the plaza with a canvas sack in one fist. It bulges and there's a dark patch of seepage becoming evident in one corner. The sack isn't dripping yet, but it's evident there's something wet inside.

He's a little sceptical about the shark, until he sees it with his own eyes. It's not shark-sized, and what it lacks in length, it seems to have made up in girth. It reminds Spike bizarrely of a pug dog. A sleek, sharkskin-encased, pug dog with a dorsal fin and black empty pools for eyes. Its mouth is too deep and wide like all pugs and sharks and lined with the usual array of nightmare teeth, at least, as far as Spike can tell from the distance he's approaching from.

The woman with him he assumes is Sela. She's tall, blonde, has a badarse haircut. From her face she looks like a bruiser. She's built a bit like a brick privy and dressed in some kind of military uniform. Spike recalls her mentioning 'brigadeers' in her initial post.

He puts two fingers to his mouth and whistles, a sharp note. Holding up the bag, he calls, "You the brigadeer, then?"