Watching the blue-haired engineer walk off, Hob leaned back against the wall and slid back to a sitting position. Seven minutes. Seven minutes to go, and he'd be damned if he'd be any earlier than he had to be. Better to sit and chat with random strangers than go in early, even if he felt slightly guilty for terrifying the kid. All the same, Connor might as well have been quoting every single bad movie, sitcom, and book when he had mentioned his 'totally random major brain operation.' Something like that was hardly random! Hob wondered what it was they wanted the kid to agree to. Nothing pleasant, no doubt. He knew they were down NI-techs at the moment, one in a fugue and the other gone back into stasis with multiple personality disorder to sleep out the rest of the journey with nearly a decade's worth of nightmares to keep him company. Hob scratched the scruff of his chin as he looked once more in the direction that Connor had gone. Maybe it was worth a look into the files, see what it was they wanted the kid for, if anything? 

Hob was readily admit he might just have been paranoid, but the encounter had left him a tad concerned for Connor. If someone was insane enough to [i]volunteer[/i] for this shit [i]after[/i] they had been warned of the side effects and treatment they could expect, well, to hell with them! But if someone smart ass was planning on 'recruiting' more people for the NI program... or anything even vaguely similar to it for that matter... 

His thoughts were interrupted by a flurry of movement and the sound of a sharp gasp. Cooly looking back up from his handheld, he spied a petite and attractive young lady about his own age press herself against the wall as if something had scared her. The notion of her being attractive quickly vanished from his opinions when Hob's brain finally registered the lab coat she wore. It was the enemy. His one nostril flared as his face fought between grimacing in distaste and snarling in dislike. If there was anything worse than a medico, it was a friendly medico who smiled too warmly, too nicely. It usually led up to being told they wanted something and then them taking it whether he wanted to provide it or not.

Yet... she had called him Hob. If she had called him by any of the other possible variations of his given name, then his distrust of her would have been instantly cemented in place for all eternity. Perversely, that made the NI-tech all the more uncertain as how to deal with her.

Four minutes. 

"Yeah, I'm Hob. Let me guess, you're in charge now. Or partially in charge. Or in charge of one part of me but not another. Or you're in charge of one the departments that's in charge of me and mine but not any of the others" He rubbed at his scruffy face and staggered back to his feet. "Well, Ms. Wilkes-Lane, please take a number and get in line. I'd ask what level authority you have over the NI-techs, but I'm pretty sure by now that it would be stupid question since I'm come to the conclusion that everyone has authority over us."

Waving a hand towards the hatchway as though in invitation, he raised an eyebrow. "Come to watch the fun? It's popular entertainment, I've been told. I'm surprised they haven't sold tickets yet. No doubt some enterprising engineer or tech will think to record the whole thing for the sake of both posterity and profit." Hob paused, and an evil laugh burst out suddenly from thin lips. "They could make great bogeymen out of us in a few generations! Just think, all the mothers warning their children to be good least they be stolen away to become NI-techs! Who needs monsters under the bed when they'll have us!"

His handheld chirped an alarm. Two minute warning.

Hob looked towards the hatchway forlornly, dropping his hand dejectedly by his side. "Truth be told? I hope they don't remember us at all."