Breaking his stare with the table, Max finally looked at the pink Nohvan across from him while the others spoke to each other and bantered. His mask pointed in one direction, his eyes strained to the left to observe her. He almost refused to believe it could be anyone other than the twins, but Max had learned never to bank anything on a guess, even if he was good at it. He examined her face quickly, and found her eyes, which made his moving view stand still. Piercing blue, surrounded in an abyss. Those eyes took him back to the Slaver ship of his childhood from many years ago. When he was nameless, weaker. The childlike wonder was still in them, and Max smiled silently beneath his mask. Even when people like Max and Callum had let the world bring them down, she appeared to have maintained her bubbly personality from so many years ago.

[color=silver][i]Onimani, have I truly found you again?[/i][/color]

Even if his better judgement didn’t allow him to be certain, his heart was already dead set on his guess. The nausea in his throat dried up, and, even still being bewildered that she was in prison, the pleasure of being near an old friend again still comforted him. 

[color=silver][i]What that sweet kid could’ve possibly done to end up in the same room as the Pirate King and I, I will ne-[/i][/color]

Beginning to speak, the Warden reminded that Max had actually been facing someone the whole time, and he quickly turned his gaze fully towards the Warden. It felt like minutes had gone by that he looked at the Pink Nohvan, but luckily it had only been a few seconds. Hopefully it didn’t look like he was actually staring at anyone. First impressions were always important, especially for the weirdo wearing the mask.

The Warden introduced Mr. White, a clean cut man who stood up and introduced himself to the crowd of criminals that stood in front of him. Tanned skin, clean skin, the man immediately screamed [b]CONMAN[/b] to Max, but he’d at least hear what he had to say before telling him that. Not much to Max’s surprise, Mr. White began telling tall tales about how the convicts could become some sort of rag-tag mercenary group to work for the Federation. As much as Max would love to have some sort of purpose, this sounded way too outlandish to be taken at face value.

[color=a36209]"Fuck the Federation. I'd rather die than work for you scum."[/color]

A hidden smirk creeped across Max’s face as he turned his head to look at Callum.

[color=fff79a]"You're not working for the Federation, Mr. Bowman, you're working [i]with[/i] us. We simply provide you with missions and many benefits, you will never have to speak to Federation personal. You aren't listed as one, as far as the public knows you are all locked in this facility instead of fighting for the greater good. This is not an opportunity to throw away as something like it will never come up again,"[/color]

Max nearly laughed the response off, but his smile was replaced by a look of surprise when it seemed like Callum had been satisfied by this answer. For such a rebellious man to be silenced with such an...odd answer was striking. Max began to rebutt, but stayed quiet while his other prisoner’s began to speak, choosing to take his time to mull over his own words carefully.

[color=hotpink]"Let me get this straight, Mr. White -can I call you Gabe? You just gathered up eight of the biggest assholes on this entire moon-jail, and you're going to give us a ship, armor, guns, freedom, and more importanly booze -all with no supervision? I know you Fed guys are supposed to be dumb, but [i]come on![/i] Tell me you see the problem with that plan, cupcake. What's the catch? This shit always comes with some fine print, hidden terms and conditions, whatever. Save me the suspense, what is gonna bite us in the ass when we say yes?"[/color]

Max silently nodded to himself, wondering some similar things to himself. There had to be some sort of stipulation or rider to this deal. Max couldn’t, and wouldn’t believe they would let these criminals on such a loose leash with so much firepower. Max started to speak up again, as he gazed at the ship’s hologram on the table, but was cut off when a larger-than-life Gorgas entered the room. Max’s gaze, along with a few others in the room, slowly turned to view the reptile fully. Standing at at least 3 heads taller than Max, and looking to weigh easily 4 times as him, the dragon was obviously nothing to be trifled with. In the Gorgas’ lack of much to say, another prisoner in the room spoke up

[color=ff0000]"The Federation isn't foolish. They need a system to ensure that we continue to fulfill missions, rather than rebel and go back to our more natural veins of crime."[/color]

Max once again gave himself a small nod in agreement with the sentiment and question posed by the woman. Finally, seeing as no one else was going to speak, Max took his chance, letting his solid voice fall out of his mouth like slinky: slow to begin with, but gaining speed as it went on.

[color=silver]”Okay, Mr. White, let me repeat what I gathered from what you said, and you tell me if I have this wrong. You, well, the Federation more specifically, are offering us a chance at freedom, well, neutered freedom, I imagine, to go out and work [i]for[/i] you. Now, you say we’d be working [i]with[/i] the Federation, but working [i]with[/i] someone, or something, usually means that, that someone or something would usually be giving some sort of aid or assistance, or doing [b]something[/b] other than just handing us guns, giving us an objective, and saying ‘Go.”[/color]

Max turned in his chair to better face Mr. White directly, and gave him the best eye contact one can give someone when they’re wearing a mask. Pulling his leg up and resting it across the other, he continued.

[color=silver]“But. If we basically don’t exist, to either the public, or most of the Federation outside of this little room here, how exactly are we much more than the Federation’s little attack dogs? I can’t imagine we’d be fighting alongside Federation soldiers, or doing any work that the Federation would really want to do themselves, so why not send a bunch of expendable prisoners? Beyond that, did you put any thought in this, or did you put exactly enough thought into it that you needed to? Because, I don’t know most of the people in this room, and I didn’t know anyone I worked for, at least not personally, so some, or all, of these people could’ve easily tried to kill me in the past. Stick them in a confined space with me, and a bunch of guns, this doesn’t spell well for either of us. As much as I would genuinely love to have some sort of purpose other than sitting in a cell with my own thoughts, I want to know the finer details of this purpose that you’re trying to sell us here. Do the room a favor, and please stop speaking in these tail-chasing semantics. What is the catch?”[/color]