Veuglaire Syndrome

[Keller]

Her hastened response with a foreign accent seemed to prompt some kind of a reaction from him, he broke eye contact, smiled but also simultaneously seemed to lose focus on the situation. It was as if whatever recollection that occurred in response to this nuance hurt him. He was nonetheless able to quickly snap out of it. "Yes, I'm sure you'd love to go back to your family. And in truth I'd be happy to enable that. The truth of the situation is that you'll likely spend the rest of your life in jail, having passionately committed several war-crimes. As it turns out, vaporizing hapless fools with your antimatter cannon is quite barbaric." He smiled at the stall attendant and placed their order for two lemonades, nodding his head when asked about ice and sugar, oddly enough he asked for a smaller quantity of salt in his own glass. After receiving both glasses, he would promptly hand Ambre hers. "I also did not ask for you to serve Bretonia. I specifically said that I needed pilots. I am neither a Bretonian citizen nor do I presently serve Her Majesty's armed forces. I'm a privateer. For now. And if you choose to come with me, I can arrange for your freedom. Even if my present benefactors don't approve.. there's a lot of ways someone can go missing. If I can pull enough strings, I'll even bring your family to you." He seemed brutally honest, and was perhaps almost equally as ruthless as her when it came to active service. And his physique seemed to suggest that, at least typically, did not waste his time sipping lemonade under the sun like this on a regular basis.