Pierre looked at the newcomer in awe. The short, plump man very much reminded him of a turtle that had been pulled out of its shell. His mode of speaking only contributed to the image. Remembering his manners a second later, he politely nodded towards the "turtle," but didn't care to verbally greet him. After all, he was his prisoner.
Judging by the Lieutenant's - Jiro's - response to the uncomfortable silence that had hung in the air for a moment, the young pilot wasn't particularly fond of the older man either. Pierre stepped towards the pilot, as close as the metal bars would allow him.
"Is there anything I should watch out for around here?" the Gaul whispered in a way that let the plump man and the guard at the other side of the hall know exactly what he was saying. Whether the guard had actually heard him, he couldn't tell, since the young man was already sunk back into the daydreams that the Turtle's entrance had interrupted. The old man himself though ever so slightly raised one of his eyebrows, either in an attempt to understand Pierre's accent, or because he was surprised by the question.
Waiting for the Lieutenant's reply, if he was to give one, Pierre looked at the small desk that was halfway in between his cell and the small metal door through which the Turtle had entered. The large pile of files made him gulp. This would probably take a while, he thought.
