"For such a brainiac you sure have a bad habit of stating the obvious". A final bang on the door, completely uncalled for really, punctuated the end of the sentence. "Yes I'm tense, I'm bored, I'm antsy and I can't sleep. I hate this place and I hope we get deployed so I can take it out on something real, simulation just doesn't do it for me". Jean-Baptiste took a deep breath, clenching and unclenching his fists, and adopted a more relaxed posture. The change was remarkable, from borderline psychotic to calm and collected individual in a second or two, not just physically but mentally as well. It was a mask, but it was a good one and one Jean-Baptiste had worn often and was comfortable in, to the point where even the nanomachines might have registered the changes.

"So, comrade, your thoughts on the newcomers?" The tone was neutral, with a tinge of honest curiosity to it, but someone who knew Bertrand as well as Bob did would automatically substitute "newcomers" with "cannon fodder", if he were being kind. "And what of that other matter? I believe you were just working on it". If Bob had a scientific interest in the nanomachines, that was well and good, but Jean-Baptiste hated the thought of someone poking and prodding around his body and brain and simply wanted the intrusion dealt with, a complaint he'd made often and vigorously to anyone who would listen. And several who wouldn't.