Perking up his gaze slightly upon mention of finding one of his chips, Max felt a grin curl upon his lips before he chuckled and nodded — shrugging. “Yes, well.. My company is very largely based. We go as far as the microchips in the common microwave, to what keeps your finest computers working and manageable ” He suggested in a very professional tone, making it unintentionally clear of how serious he was about his industry. “Though production decreased lightly upon my…,” he paused. “Accident. It has risen again, however, and distribution has increased significantly as of nothing happened.”
Watching carefully as Silva poured himself a spot more of the scotch, Max smiled slightly in mental hopes he enjoyed it — hardly taking into consideration that he was unable to actually taste it. He snorted at the mention of his situation with 007, and he turned away his eyes as he took a rather hard slug of his own scotch. “Well, I do hope I exceeded your expectations of a dead man.”
Raoul watched Max as he spoke of his chips, swirling the glass in his hand, listening to the gently, almost silent sloshes of the liquid churning. There were many, many things you could do with microchips. Max probably knew this himself; Raoul hadn't thought much on them in the way of advantages on other people.
"You do, mhm," he nodded, sipping at the drink, gesturing to him with the same hand once he had had enough, "You smell much more pleasant." than a dead man. Than he had expected. It could go any way (and most likely it did go in every way), but Raoul would leave it to Max to decide. The man did smell rather delightful.
He set the empty glass down on the table again. "But you have given off a rather good first impression, Max."
