“Yes. A drop-off.” He summarizes quietly. He listens, though isn’t particularly interested, as Swindle makes some complicated chatter of the possibility of better clients. While he found the black market merchant lifestyle interesting, he couldn’t say he knew much of the intricacies about it. The chances of who makes the best clients will likely forever elude him.
While the constant conversation grates slightly, Voyager doesn’t find himself swayed any way about it. Maybe Swindle was trying to get information. Maybe he was trying to annoy him. Whatever the case, Voyager doesn’t seem to be disturbed in any major way by the talking.
A week. Well, he’s kept up facades for much longer, though he’ll admit he didn’t expect the Voyager persona to live much longer than a few cycles. Nonetheless, one septacycle is still nothing compared to his stellar cycles of espionage.
“I have no complaints.” He rolls his optics slightly. He doesn’t doubt that the mech will try to milk him for all that he’s worth while he’s here. He supposes he’s glad he made a few hearty sales of his own before getting caught up in this. Information goes for a hefty price– and Voyager has quite a lot of it.
In contrast to Swindle, Voyager very obviously seems to have little to say. Or perhaps that’s just another facade? How much of the Decepticon is truly real?
“What comes next?” He asks this more politely than hastily– he isn’t impatient.
Voyager’s quietness and simple responses were quite loud to Swindle. There was a tactic in that simplicity. While he wasn’t going to jump in and judge, he could be wrong, he felt he was fairly close on his thoughts.
There had been no complaints about his partial rambling, sentences were kept short and to the point, otherwise the silence was deafening, and just perhaps this Voyager was one who preferred to listen. A background player than a forefront.
The mercenary idly wondered how much he had right. At the moment it was fairly unimportant in the short term. The long term was debatable.
“First, we get the equipment.” Turns his helm toward the inner of the ship with a whistle. After a moment of silence, he turned back to Voyager. “Second, we move off this rock. We’ll be safer in space and can decide where you’re getting dropped off once you’re good to go.”
From the inner hallway, weaving through the boxes came a rather large voltai. The crimson armor and vividly red biolights flickered off the crates as she made her way closer to them. Purring at her owner with a bump to his leg. Bright red optics turned towards Voyager once she got her pets from Swindle.
For a long few moments Red just stared at Voyager. Judging him quietly. After they passed, she trotted up and jumped right onto his knee. Sitting to stare right at his third optic.
“Voyager, this is Red, my Barbossan Crimson. She’ll be helping me find the equipment once she’s done assessing you.”
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