On the opposite end of the noodle bar, well out of range of Anson but still in view, Bruce sat quietly in a rather depressing, shady little corner. He found himself people watching, not particularly focused on any one subject, absent-minded. Despite the setting sun, the streets grew brighter with neon signs, flashing trinkets up to auction for whoever was the loudest, and an endless sea of towering, colossal billboards that blocked the majority of the skyline.

This was a far cry from his little stretch of dirt back on his home planet. Life with his modest slice of desolation was much more quiet, much simpler. Stars seemed far more beautiful, more numerous and distant. The past few years of Bruce's life sucked all the sense of wonder and little optimism he once felt for the great expanse. It seemed no matter how far the 7-5's missions have brought them, whether traversing advanced colonies or bumfuck nowhere, there was no end to the amount of corruption and putrid bile that seeped through every community. It was immediately apparent to Bruce that a seedy city such as Snoria wasn't going to change his view any time soon.

A sudden small thud brought Bruce back to reality, as his bowl of ramen thumped against one of his metal arms.

"Four credits."

He peered down at his bowl, examining and prodding the lukewarm serving with mild disdain, and a few moments later returned his gaze to his server. He stood defiantly in front of Bruce, presumably waiting for his due. Bruce broke the awkward silence, speaking slowly, hoping the dull-eyed man would understand him fully with a second, more stern request:

"Or-gan-ic."

Maintaining his stare, he pushed the bowl in front of him contemptuously, spilling a bit of its contents on the server's apron. The server's scowl grew, but after a few moments he was the first to break contact. He snatched the bowl hastily and scooted off, leaving Bruce alone, just as he preferred it. A sharp yet familiar stinging sensation was forming in his head, along with the beginnings of a pounding, high-pitched chime, just as his thoughts began to drift to a violent nature. He began tapping the cybernetic modifier on the right side of his temple rapidly, and the ringing slowly lessened to its usual, low tempo hum.

[color=FF8C00][i]<Status check. All operators, update location and readiness.>[/i][/color]

While normally discomforted by the sudden invasion of thought, Bruce welcomed the distraction. From across the stand, Anson and Bruce shared a brief moment of eye contact. There was a twinkle in Bruce's eye as he turned his attention back to the streets, maintaining a stoic expression as best he could. Two light, rhythmic taps to his modifier provided the necessary signal: 'Ready.'