[center][color=orange][h2]Maema Nisshoku[/h2][/color]
[sub] Figuring [/sub][/center]

[indent][indent] Maema pondered Roga’s question as he too stared at Akumako’s vanishing form. What reassuring answer could he give that wouldn’t openly announce that he was just slightly daft. His warm gaze lingered for a moment more before becoming unnaturally vague. He stood, rubbed the nape of his neck, then looked at his comrade.  

[color=orange][b] “If I absolutely have to answer I’d say a little bit of both... I don’t know how to explain it really. Guess it might be something she said earlier. I’m willing to believe long as she’s serious. You have to admit the Little Bull has horns. Literally and figuratively of course.”[/b][/color] He said light-hearted. 

With a friendly pat to the back, Maema started out the cafeteria as well. [color=orange][b] “It was nice meeting you, Roga.”[/b][/color] He twisted around to walk backwards as a thought pounced on him. [color=orange][b] “... And try not to sweat our childish leader too much, I get the feeling she’s more than what we're seeing.”[/b][/color] 

On his trek back to his room, Maema found the time to go over both Roga and Akumako’s potential for survival. He knew it wasn’t his place to decide if one could last long in combat but he had his reasons. If they couldn’t last long then their was no reason to value their lives. Fortunately for them, Roga seemed competent enough to depend on and Akumako… Well, Akumako was the physical reflection of the competency that he saw in Roga.  

Without realizing it Maema found his fingers twiddling the gold of his father’s dog-tag in his room. He hoped to do the useless waste he called father  some justice in the upcoming days. If he could somehow get the news out that he was doing good in service of the Jiyutai than perhaps it’d bring the bastard some peace.  [/indent][/indent]