"Tech-Priest Harlocke, these men had a close run in with Overseer Hresh in the refinery after they got lost on their business. They could use a guide familiar with the workings of the forge and the mine complex beyond, one friendly to all and not just those of the forge. I immediately thought of you. The workers would see it as a great favor if you could accompany them, and safeguard the Legio's business."
 
The man keeps to one side, respectful of the tech-priest, and admiring of his work.
 
"If I may leave them in your capable hands? I must return to work or the Overseer will begin to question their presence once more."
 
He pauses, awaiting confirmation from the priest.
 
 
//   I'm wary of using the spoiler tags as OOC. You won't know if you're looking at a comment from me, or opening up a dice roll that maybe you wanted to be left in the dark about. I was mainly using the Spoiler for those readers who might like to know what effect your tests, and NPC tests are having on the story. Quote would be a suitable alternative if all agree.In either case, I would rather see your rolls in the open as you have done all along.

OOC: Same here, I don't mind what order we post in, just as long as the RP keeps moving along
 
Dracon looked over at the slumped body of Pak from his position at the desk, when he looked closely, he could indeed see a small wound under the chin. 
 
"Yeah, I can see the wound now. Something that small could be hidden pretty much anywhere, pockets, sleeves, trouser legs. I've seen an assassin pull a stiletto blade from the skin under her own forearm before plunging into the victims face." he mused, examining the wound as best he could through the proxy of the hologram. He had already noticed the items on the desk in the hologram did not match what he could see in physicality, so he decided to pay closer attention to those. Perhaps there was something they were missing by looking at what was there instead of what used to be there.
 
{Awareness test. Use my ability 'Nothing Escapes My Sight' to auto-pass with 3 DoS and spend 1 FP}

Either of those would be acceptable. When in doubt, make your best guess on a roll, you won't be wasting space. As long as it's justifiable I'll let it go.

A printable PDF of these would be great, so we could just cut them out of A4 sheets and stick em on a roladex lol

Hovering in the void above the polluted wreck of a world, the Rogue Trader vessel 'The Elaborate Ruse' was preparing to leave the system. Dracon Sylvanto was reclining in the plush passenger section of the lander he had been assigned by the ships master, and he smiled a little smile to himself as the Aquila rose gently off the deck and rocketed off in the freezing black. A serf appeared, bearing a tray of sweet treats and various food stuffs, but Dracon waved a ringed hand and the serf backed off.
"Pilot, how long is this going to take?" he asked, pressing a little button on his armrest to activate the vox link to the cockpit.
"Envoy-Maester Trevallyan, we are approaching the primary spaceport servicing the Assado Sector presently. Not a common destination among our patrons, if I may say sire, I've only flown this way once or twice myself." Came the reply, tinged with crackle as vox always was.
"Mine is not a common business. Inform me two minutes before landing." Was his response, standing smoothly and turning to the serf who had brought the food and commanded "Leave me." The serf turned and left the small room, closing the door behind him. As Dracon saw it close, he pulled the fake rings off his fingers, tossing the costume jewellery on the floor along with his Envoy disguise as he stripped down to his body glove. He pulled a hood up, from where it was tucked in a pouch at the back of his neck and quickly stood beside the door the serf had come through. A knock sounded and the serf opened the sliding panel before stepping through with his luggage. The serf stopped as he saw the bundled clothes on the floor and dropped the bag, spinning to see Dracon, disguise-less and grinning.
"Dropping my bag was just rude." Dracon swung a fist up under the serf's chin and punched him into unconsciousness, grabbing the boy's clothes to stop him from slamming into the ground and alerting the other crew. Laying the lad down, a pip alerted him, the vox link in the chair going live again;
"Envoy-maester, we are two minutes from landing final approach is beginning as we speak."
Smiling, Dracon responded "My thanks. Pass my thanks and a commendation for you to your Ship's Master."
"My... My thanks sire." Came the reply, but Dracon didn't hear it. He was already on his way to the cargo hold, a prybar in his hands from the suitcase the serf had returned to him, and he wedged the tip into the bulkhead frame of the internal access panel of the landing gear and applied his strength, bending the panel out of its housing.
Tying a rope around his waist and the handle of the suitcase, he dropped it through and squeezed his body through the gap to cling to the landing gears leg, his foot upon the footclaw that the lander would rest on. As the craft flew in closer to the landing pad, the ground crew cleared of the pad to avoid the downwash of the jets, but
it didn't bother Dracon as he leapt down and sprinted through the swirling winds and dust kicked up. He was off the platform before the Aquila even touched down, ducking under refuelling pipes and round cargo crates to disappear into the darkness of the shadows.
Three hours later, he was strolling down the pavement of a street like a hundred others he had seen that night when he caught a glint of metal at the corner of his eye, a motorbike parked at the side of the road, pops and pings coming from the still cooling metal. He looked at the bike, clearly not new, but cared for, he looked up to see if he cups spot the owner. Nobody was in sight, and he stuck his hand in his pocket, pulling the data slate he had been given and checked the display before looking round. It seemed to be that he was exactly where he was supposed to be, the bike parked outside the address he had been told to reach, and not a moment too soon. Stepping up to the door, he opened it and walked into the room beyond. Sitting before him, a brute of a fellow in guard issue flak armour, a tattoo covering almost half his face and a lasgun resting against the side of his chair.
"Greetings, might I assume you have one of these too?" he asked, holding up the data slate to show why he was there. He stepped further into the room before sitting in one of the chairs at the steel table against one wall. Rocking back on the rear legs, he kicked his feet up onto the surface and slid a small icon of the Emperor out of his pocket and began running his thumb over it. He was beginning to get a bad feeling about this.
OOC: Didn't want to mess with your character Asymptomatic as I didn't know if you had a grand entrance planned. Ting, just speak to Dracon as you wish, he's a bit haughty but generally good natured. Guarded obviously as any good acolyte should be.