Three hours in to his first foray off the Barge and Tim figured he was working on a good set of bruises up and down his left arm from where he kept pinching himself. Because this couldn't be real. He knew it was real. He'd agreed to be here. He'd met vampires, super soldiers and others on the Barge, spent what felt like weeks getting to know them. This was all real.

Yet he kept pinching, the normally stoic and even slightly jaded ex-Ranger becoming wide-eyed as he bounced in the low gravity like a child. In the interest of honesty, Tim had blown an entire hour planetside just boinging around like a superball. He recognized that the gravity situation was going to have an effect on how the rifle slung across his back targeted, but figured he'd work out the math later. Eventually he settled himself back down to his task and had begun to investigate the availability of food.

At first, it had seemed promising. Meals were easy to find and quite tasty (in the Ihopethisdoesn'tpoisonme) way. But as the day wore on Tim began to realize that he was running out of places to check and still had not found a source for bulk rations. This realization drew some of the fun out of the planet and the sniper's habitual resting frown face settled back into a mask across his features.

After some consideration, he circled back into what appeared to be local gathering spots and settled himself in out of the way corners (to avoid getting stepped on and to keep a low profile) to sit and listen. By the time he'd heard what he suspected he needed, darkness had settled over the city.

He made his way down to the transport yards and hunkered under a bit of scrap to watch, recon and consider his list and his options. Tim really wasn't keen on stealing. It went against all the discipline he had picked up in the Army, as a Marshal and from his own internal code of morals. He also wasn't all that keen on starving or watching others starve.

For awhile he watched and argued internally with himself. Eventually it was a sack of dropped potatoes, where one of the spuds broke free and went rolling past Tim's hiding place on its way to fetching up under a bush, that made up his mind. The potato was huge, easily big enough to feed everyone on the Barge and still supply leftovers for a week!

Glancing once more at his list, the Marshal sighed and then nodded to himself. Alright, next trick; get on a transport.

[ooc: Feel free to catch up with Tim bounding like a 5 year old and just being a dork, in a tavern hiding in a potted plant and eavesdropping on agricultural workers, at the transport yard either having a crisis of conscience, or sneaking onto a transport, OR Fe Fi Fo Fum if your character got snagged during their own heist attempts, he is here to help!]