Devon was taking a bite as Tristain sat down, his eyes locking on the bloody knuckles. Damn it, maybe Andrew wouldn't not- 'Fifty credits, sir.' Shit. Sighing, he reached into a pocket and pulled out the money, handing it over to him reluctantly. In reality, the money was nothing compared to their salaries. Being the best of the best did have its perks, after all. He had more than enough money to comfortably purchase ammunition and whatever chemicals he needed for his cocktails... That reminded him, he'd need his injections after dinner. The jitters hadn't set in yet, but they'd come soon enough. They always did. No, he'd need the stimulants, than he'd work himself. Harder, faster, the pinnacle of mankind. 

He boredly watched Melanie and Tristain argue, eating throughout that time, rather enjoying his meal of ham and potatoes. The thick white gravy had soaked into both parts of the meal, and the biscuit provided a rather soft alternative whenever he wanted something else. Otherwise, a delicious meal. Perking up at the mention of Lucy, one could swear Devon growled out. "Is no one going to stop her? I must wonder if it turns from training to sadistic pleasure when you start shooting the recruits, to test the others. Yes, we took shots in our training, but we weren't shot for no reason. It was punishment, not a fucking exercise." His voice was angry, as his eyes locked upon Lucy and her own bloodstained hands. "How many do I have to tend to today. How many died, or have wounds that not even I can fix. How many shots of fucking Arsenic am I delivering today, I must wonder?" His hand gripped the table, the knuckles turning white from the strength in it.

After losing so many at the slaughter of the airbase, two of the Eagles, one of them an actual friend. Well, closer to one than any of the others here. He didn't consider Devon a 'replacement.' He didn't consider him poison to the fresh wound of Phoenix's death. So, when he had seen Lucy turn so... Violent towards their new recruits, whom he felt something of a kinship towards. They were replacements, yes, but hadn't he been one? That's the bit that got him. They didn't sign up for this. No one signs up to be shot in their training. He barely paid attention to the talk of two new squad mates. A pilot and the legendary spy. Interesting, they did need a new pilot, but the spy...? That was interesting. He heard their tones, and his lips curled down into a heavy frown. So quick to judge replacements. So quick.

Glancing up, he realized their table was full as the two new ones approached. Dragging over a nearby table, adding in space, he sat down and forced a smile as they were all introduced. "I'm not called Venom from your damn comic. I'm called Venom because of my poisons." It was an age old argument between the two, but one Devon was determined to win. "If Lucy hurt you, come visit me later if it's not urgent, I'll get you fixed up. I'm the teams medic, one of the best, and I don't approve of Lucy's methods enough to let her have fun." Looking around, he'd wait for the other one to introduce himself, along with the rest of the squad, and normal conversation to resume.