Remaining quiet as the rest of the motley crew filed into the conference room, Iosif continued to analyse the other individuals seated across the table from his person.

First and foremost were the two that were responsible for bringing him here: Tanya Carson and Kosso Irak. The former of the two he'd taken a liking to almost instantly, if only for the fact that she was a fellow human in a place dominated by alien faces and the fact that she also happened to be a veteran of the Alliance, like him - albeit with her limbs intact. From what he could tell, she was sociable enough to return a simple nod without ignoring him or passing an awkward glare, and there seemed to be a vague aura of optimism to her person that wasn't too common amongst freelancers in times like these. For what it was worth, she seemed trustworthy enough. For now, at least.

Kosso was an unusual face for him altogether, a drell. Granted, he knew enough about the drell from what he'd seen on the media and heard from others working in the freelance business, but he'd seldom seen their kind in person before. Once or twice perhaps, back when his own crew had operated before the salarian bastard had turned on them, but otherwise they were almost completely alien to him. From the little he'd actually witnessed though, they were highly efficient at whatever task they were pushed to, though whether the same could be said for this Kosso was as-of-yet unknown to him. Time would tell, as he'd tell himself.

At any rate, the two of them were the least of his concerns when it came to watching his back, if only for the fact that they'd probably be more occupied trying to keep the others in line.

Funnily enough, there happened to be yet another drell within the room, yet this one was female. And, for some reason, she was wearing sunglasses. It was a peculiar sight, if only for the fact he'd never actually seen a female drell before, not even on the media, and for some unusual reason she seemed to stand out with the fact that she was wearing sunglasses. She didn't exactly strike him as a dangerous one but then, that was often how they preferred it - beware the quiet ones, as they often said. Either way, he'd given her little cause (as far as he was concerned) to cause him trouble, so for the time being he remained optimistic.

And yet somehow, this optimism quickly dissipated at the presence of the next arrival. Well-dressed, well-equipped and well-mannered, the salarian seemed to match every stereotype attributed to universally famous assassins and intelligence operatives from all walks of life. Regardless of whatever profession he'd chosen - and Iosif was almost certain the salarian was a contract killer - it was clear that he was a dangerous individual, and one to be kept at a safe distance. The salarian reminded him all-too-well of a certain betrayal that had left him out to dry for a long while, and he'd no intentions of going back there again.

Fortunately enough, the next one to catch his eye was enough to distract him from the matter. After all, there was a multitude of words used to describe the bearded man known to most of the well-informed freelance networks as the Enforcer, a fellow human who'd made a name for himself running a variety of professional jobs that needed only one thing from him: Muscle. Least to say that back when Iosif had been doing his own jobs, he'd been careful to avoid crossing those who affiliated with the man out of a well-earned respect and caution for the Enforcer that had been tempered by years of stories from those who'd found themselves on the winning sides of whatever contracts he'd taken. As far as Iosif was concerned, so long as he didn't cross the man or disrupt his interests, he'd have little more to fear from him than he already did.

Another human face popped up in the room, another veteran by the looks of things, though he couldn't be certain of it for sure. The man was a soldier, that much he could tell, and he seemed to know the two others who'd been responsible for bringing them together, which could only mean that he'd proably be about as trustworthy as Tanya and Kosso were, for what it was worth. Next came an asari who struck him as another traditional mercenary type with a hint of pirate to her presence, and he could easily tell that she was a fellow pilot. Chances are he'd get along with this one, but her kind were best known for their tendencies to be as deadly as they were attractive, but ultimately Iosif figured that so long as he avoided crossing the asari there'd be no trouble found here.

Turians weren't an entirely uncommon face in the freelance business, though most of them had usually been given cause to drop out of the military in the form of a discharge or other social stigma, but this one was unlike any other he'd ever seen. Hunchbacked and about as imposing as a terminally ill hanar, the turian looked more suited to hiding in a dark, dank cave on some forsaken world out in the Terminus Systems than in here, and maybe he was - he was obviously an intelligent individual, if only to compensate for his failings in other matters that had almost certainly made him a pariah to his own people. At any rate, this one deserved a second glance when nobody else was looking.

The next two individuals were less likely to quell what optimism he had for this 'enterprise'. Quarians never were ones to do such, for that matter - though he often felt something of a muted sadness whenever he was reminded of Rael'Dorvah vas Selai. Annoying and boastful as he was sometimes, Iosif had grown fond of the quarian's quirks and his death at the hands of the salarian had only added to the raging fires of vengeance that he'd planned to release once his hands were clamped around that bastard's throat. These two quarians he knew little of, as you never could with their faces obscured from view. One looked fairly young judging by her size and the look of her suit, on her pilgramage maybe? He'd learned enough from Rael about them to know that a lot of young quarians usually wound up away from their own kind as part of some of coming-of-age ritual, but why anyone would hope to gain anything for a pilgramage here was beyond a doubt. The other one was visibly older, and altogether seemed to have a more dubious outlook than the other. Rael had been exiled from his people for a major fuck-up, maybe this one was in a similar boat. Whatever the case, neither of the two concerned him so much as the next would.

Yet, out of the blue, he couldn't help but notice an elephant in the room, or two.

[i]Batarians.[/i] Try as he might to avoid the sight of them, the four-eyed bastards always weaseled their way into view one way or the other. One of the first few things he'd noticed in the room was their presence and it had taken every ounce of willpower for Iosif to restrain himself from muttering a slur within earshot or resting a hand on his holstered pistol to make a physical statement, so instead he'd shifted his attention towards the others if only to temper his restraint. No doubt that at least a few of their kind would've taken issue with a do-gooder company like Siame Industries for all the little strikes made on their interests, but Iosif's reasons for being here were more a personal focus than one of business, but then he was unsurprised and similarly unimpressed - they were batarians, after all. The first of the two to catch his eye had a war-tempered look to him that vaguely reminded him of the pirates and warlords that he used to rain hellfire down upon from the cockpit of a gunship during his green days in the Alliance, and struck him as more of a mercenary type than the less-favourable 'loyalist' batarians that he'd seen more than enough of for one lifetime. At least that one would've been able to handle a weapon, by the looks of things - and so long as Iosif watched his own back around him, he'd get by well enough.

However, the same couldn't be said for the other batarian seated across the room from him. One glance was enough for him to make up his mind on that one being a slaver, and he'd seen that familiar look many times before during his unwilling time spent on Aratoht. The one you'd see on the faces of the overseers during those long shifts in the mines, or the shuttle-runners who'd look you over with a cold, calculating sentiment as they decided what your 'worth' was. Least to say, it was enough to cause the resurgence of a few memories which were better left repressed. That one especially would need an eye kept on it, and Iosif was determined to make a less-than-subtle gesture with a slightly more pronounced tilt of the head towards the right than his fellow Alliance vet, Tanya, had shown. If the overseers on Aratoht had taught him anything, it was that the four-eyed bastards saw it as their own personal 'fuck you', and he figured that once the batarian saw the tattoo that the slavers had burned into the back of his neck, he'd realise that it was a bad idea to give him any trouble.

Ultimately, he decided to push the batarians from his thoughts and listened to Tanya's proposal with careful consideration, leaning forward and lightly drumming the fingers of his cybernetic limb against the table. Eventually, once Tanya had finished, he offered a thin smile and gave his own answer to her pitch. "Not bad, I like it." He glanced back over towards the others for a moment, again suspicious eyeing the batarian as he grumbled about not having his 'batarian brother' killed because of 'others', before shifting his focus back towards the drell woman. Hearing her story out, he felt some sympathy and was somewhat pleased to know he wasn't the only one who'd been screwed over because of Siame having a hand in things, even if her 'offer' of a few suspect organs was a little eccentric. Shrugging at that, he shifted his focus back towards Tanya and nodded in agreement. "Likewise, I've got my own issues with Miss Rebekah Siame that need settling. For what it's worth, you've got my backing."