"No relation whatsoever. Figured he was an agent of yours. What a shame he fell into that pit I created. Probably could have made a solid watch, no? On a more serious note, ever since Allure arrived, I've been assaulted nonstop with not even a moment in-between for a cat nap. Usually, I wouldn't mind. I'd chalk it up to my lifestyle and profession but there's just one thing. I have no idea who any of these individuals hellbent on killing me are. Perhaps this planet is in dire need of a scapegoat. I could see how that would calm the public down for sure. Give them something to hate, perhaps even serve as propaganda to inspire the next generation." Interrupting his rant, the display in front of Merse shifted into a humongous gold watch, which oddly enough, remained comically dressed in the same attire that shamed all things dapper. Not short after, it morphed into several versions of Merse and his numerous assailants he encountered all throughout this disastrous day. He rolled his eyes. A montage of arguably his worst day was not something he wanted to see, nevermind having it literally dangled over him. “Rubbing it in my face I see.” A deep sigh left his mouth. "Listen, I don't want to be perceived as the fall guy. I don't even want to be seen as a foe. I do have quite explaining to do, that is undeniable, [b]but—[/b] I'd rather extend my services in good faith for the sake of, I don't know, having all of us survive this ordeal. Please, feel free to inquire about anything you believe can get us out of the bind we're all clearly in." All of the projections of Merse amalgamated into a large bust of the felinoid’s head with “BOBO” stamped across its forehead. It was clear, his words weren’t getting through. Perhaps the examiner figured he could rile Merse up, making his case, confirming the idea that he was a threat. Whereas any half drawn together argument could probably deem Merse dangerous, it was rare to ever see him visibly enraged. If that was the strategy, it was bound to fail, though he was slightly irritated at the pace things currently went at. As much as the information broker desired to control the narrative, all Merse could do was timely pitch his points. The severity of Earthf67x's crisis meant some of his statements could be taken in extremity but at the same time, opened up an avenue for his survival. All he had to do was play off of the terror of the situation and prove himself to be a greater asset than foe. Insight of the Val'gara Invasion, Merse was very low on the totem pole. Even without knowing the planet's history, this was obvious. It made sense, but part of Merse felt that his interrogator didn’t care. Not that Merse would know, but he should have considered the potential of encountering individuals who were directly affected by Allure’s tragic move. He should have accounted for thousands of people like Tartalo, but Merse naively figured there was no way he could be so unlucky in those regards. He was wrong. The voice filled the room, seeming to come from every direction. "Such lofty notions. Let me correct you, because you seem to be operating under the assumption that guilt is a prerequisite for your detainment. You are a hostile force participating in an invasion." Before responding, Merse stretched a bit, slouching some to ease the tension to get comfortable. He did this almost mockingly so. “Is that why I allowed myself to be captured?” "A grave miscalculation." The response hung in the gelid air.