[color=fff200]"Well, there's me, I used to be a drug-abuser, We have Elora who's too weak to stand up for herself, we have Lora and Reynolds who are our glorious overlords, we have Yeshua, we have Teaman mcquiets, Romeo, who pilots a flower-robot for some reason,  and we have Mai who's kind of a robot."[/color].
He tried to smile, face not moving much due to his little condition, [color=fff200]"Nice little squad, isn't it?"[/color].

Before Alyssa could answer, Koehler seemed to get really dissapointed about something, noticing Yeshua sitting all alone and moping.
He quickly decided to see what Yeshua was doing before he went looking for that other new one. He'd apologize to Alyssa, [color=fff200]"A moment"[/color], then go to Yeshua in the mess hall looking all sad and lonely, and sat down next to him. He'd speak up, and try to say hi. [color=fff200]"Hey. Yeshua, right?"[/color]
[color=92278f]"What is it?"[/color] Yeshua spat in return, keeping his eyes fixed intently on any place other than the intruder. 

[color=fff200]"Well, you're apparently just moping around... and shit. Is something wrong?"[/color], Koehler said, worrying a little. He almost looked like one of those goth kids that cut themselves. Koehler hated crap like that. 
It took the boy a minute to reply. He was obviously in a lucid state of contemplation. His mind darted back to the fight. He had tried so hard but had failed in the eyes of the commander. When he was about to open his lips and share this message, it became obvious to him that Koehler didn't need to know this. He only needed to know he was strong and proud, Yeshua smiled. 
[color=92278f]"No, nothing's wrong. It is strange being in a foreign place like this. I will be fine."[/color] His eyes finally looked up from the table. [color=92278f]"You're Koehler, if I remember?" [/color]
[color=fff200]"Yep, drug-addict and non-stop-dumbass extraordinare. Don't ask me how I got this, but orange juice?"[/color], He asked, to continue testing his 'when suddenly: orange juice!' tactic.

Yeshua's eyes narrowed as Koehler introduced the bottle. It was strangely inviting to him. He hadn't had something to drink for a while now. Accepting it would be a kind gesture, Yeshua thought. It would, however, show weakness on his part. The last thing the boy wanted was for people to think he was dependent on others. While he seemed to once again remember the hypocrisy of Lorenzo in the chamber far away now, scarring deep into his mind. Once again had he been deteriorated to another useless cog in a clock, ticking time away. Yet his voice went unheard, even to the figure who claimed to be their leader. 

This was not the most frightening revalation. It was how Yeshua had wanted to help the innocent yet foolish young girl known as Elora for no good reason. If it had been Koehler, he thought, there would have been no compassion in his eyes. This sickening thought had driven him away from the chamber and he had vacated his body to the Mess Hall, hopefully to get some space in a far more empty room. The absence of closing walls enlightened him and made him feel like he was at home. Yeshua realised he had no home, as he never had belonged in the first place.  The boy did not move his eyes from the damp table. It was clean and removed from all dirt, just as he wished his soul to be. If only was it so simple. 
[color=92278f]"Loh, toda rabah."[/color] 

Koehler thought about this. He didn't know this young man, and he didn't know why he feels this way, but he gets a feeling of 'overdone'-ness. It almost seemed like he died a little inside, seemingly thinking some...Really fucking deep shit. Like, "What is art?" or some other overly philosophical crap. Fuck that shit.[color=fff200] "Hey, question? You reading ground control from up there? Where the hell is your head?"[/color]
[color=fff200]"We're a team, kind of a family."[/color] Harold continued, [color=fff200]"And from my knowledge, a good team, or family, needs to speak their minds. So I'm going to do that again myself. What the hell did I do? I think I saw a vein pop or something, why the hell are you thinking so hard?"[/color]. Harold resumed his analyzing, [color=fff200]"If you ever want to talk about whatever, you can always just tell me. I know I look like a fucking idiot, but a broken clock is right twice a day, right? ...Really though, why do you seemingly think that hard? It can't be healthy. I mean.. aren't we supposed to be thinking about zany schemes to pick up girls or something instead of really deep stuff? I mean, 'normal' teenagers do that and they turn out... y'know, 'normal'."[/color]

Not much would have broken Yeshua's composure as he leaped down into the chasm of contemplation, no bungee rope attached. This would be the case for everyone he had talked to, be it the Orthodox Kaballan family he had been brought into before the Cruxi began their crusade, or his own Grandmother. This boy was different. Words could not describe his masculinity or his courage in the face of defeat. As soon as he had heard the words, "kind of", there was no hope for the conversation to last. At the mere thought of someone holding their own against him, the house of cards collapsed instantaneously. His decorum became non observant as almost all of his politeness faded. He was being lectured. "Lectured" had been repeated in his mind around ten times before he looked at the young man to his right, the remains of a smile on his face. 
[color=92278f]"No, you are right, Koehler."[/color]

His little lecturer managed to pull off a small amount of emotion in his face, a little undescribable. [color=fff200]"Yeah, I may not be able to pull it off myself as well as I once did, but I can detect sarcasm. Let's just drop the fucking subject then, for now. We'll slap eachother's shit or whatever over philos...philosip.... Whatever later."[/color]. He'd grab a seat next to him and plop his ass down. [color=fff200]"So, how's your frame been handling? Mine's been doing pretty good. Maneuvers okay and all. Nice and punchy."[/color]

Yeshua seemed to lack any amount of excitement at the mention of the Frameworks. Although he almost worshipped his, he had not yet shared any information on it. The Anzu was swift, armoured intensively and carried one of the most powerful weapons mankind had ever created. He had that power in his hands and it was pride alone that had driven him through the previous "training" fight. At the sound of Koehler sitting down, his bruised leg twitched slightly and his unbrushed hair seemed to sizzle in the air.
[color=92278f]"I'll repeat again. Koehler, you are right. I'm not being sarcastic."[/color]
The boy stood up from his seat and turned to look to one of the farest lights.
[color=92278f]"You do look like a fucking idiot."[/color]






With nothing else to say, he walked off down one of the corridors, eager to meet one of the other, less ridiculous, pilots. 
Koehler, standing flabbergasted, simply smiled afterwards. Of course, a half-smile really. He returned to his little introduction with Alyssa, saying, oddly happily, [color=fff200]"Don't worry about him, there's hope for him yet."[/color] [color=fff200]"I thought he was going all robot as well. Robots can't get angry, right?"[/color]