As Riggs awaited the Captain's recovery, he mused over the reactions of his fellow pickers. Though
Grick shied away from Riggs' "harsh tirade", he sensed little disagreement from the monolithic fishman. He took
Nine's contribution for what it was -one of the first useful things that anyone had said since the Captain brought up the extinction of the humans. Though the feline figure seemed placated enough, he could feel a connection of annoyance form between the two of them. Riggs' eyes opened just a little wider in exasperation. As
Cú passed, Riggs did his best to keep composure, knowing fully well that the canine's threat had very solid backing. Almost reflexively, Riggs rubbed at his upper torso when the grizzled voice confronted him in passing, but showed no other tell of fear. He had no doubt that the clone already knew he was afraid. When
Cú began his... whatever it was that came out of his mouth, it was all Riggs could do to not burst with laughter. While the spirit behind his speech was admirable, the ideas presented were naive -childish at best, entirely ignorant at worst. Maybe a lesser mind would've been inspired, but Riggs saw it for what it was: a hopeless tirade playing on a thousand different tropes, reliant on a thousand more fallacies.
Riggs smiled as
Ven interjected his piece. Though he and
Ven disagreed at times, it was clear that the bandaged alien was one of the few on board who's mental capabilities were even near the intellectual prowess of the Corvidaen. When Ven addressed Riggs with a rather passive insult, Riggs did little to acknowledge it but raise his metal bottle in a gesture similar to a toast. He nodded along as the Veslinian began his own philosophical investigation of the situation in an attempt to placate the feeble minded canine. When
Ven conceded that Riggs had adequately addressed his concerns, the blue alien tipped an imaginary hat in a mock humble gesture.
"Well, my friend of egregious persuasion," Riggs began, in response to
Pax.
"I may not be Captain, but I don't think anyone here can disagree that I am without a shadow of a doubt the most capable intellect on this ship." He bragged, knowing fully well that this would only antagonize the Traqkian more. Though he was confident in the fact that he truly was smarter than the rest,
Pax had brought up a good point. In years of toppling governments and pulling off assassinations, Riggs had only ever had dealings with the 'big fish' on nomad, so to speak. Though he wasn't entirely sure of
Pax's criminal history, something told him that it was mostly alcohol related, certainly nothing that had an influence on the large scheme of life. That much was clear in that he had never heard mention of her when searching out talent to assist his assassination schemes.
Riggs, as loathe as he was to admit it, saw truth in what
Pax said -it may be beneficial to deal with low-level scum and arm themselves sparsely rather than deal with high level criminals and arm themselves for a war. Of course, he would never admit that.
"I'm sure that this plan would blow over just fine with whatever connections you have with low level scum -a cousin perhaps? Nevertheless, I digress." Riggs said to
Pax before continuing
"But it appears our guardian Ukai has brought our answer. Unless Nine's contact doesn't come through for us, we won't have to fall back on any desperate low-level arms dealers. No need to bother with any schemes of mutiny either, though mutiny is far from the top of heinous crimes you'll see in the daylight of Nomad." He said simply, his final statement both addressing and ridiculing the concerns of
Pax. It was clear in their excursions to Nomad, the two had lived in very different worlds. While Riggs spent his time around the worst of the worst -high level criminals who would just as soon shoot you as look at you, the red-skinned alien was clearly far more familiar with the tame side of Nomad -the weaker criminals who served under those who serve under Riggs partners. Possibly with a few more degrees of separation between their work.
Nothing else to say, Riggs stood from his seat and casually sauntered to the counter from which he had earlier retrieved the bottle of cleaning fluid, and replaced the now empty steel cylinder. He then turned to face the crew, leaning back against the counter. Across his face was plastered the classic shit-eating grin present on the faces of all Corvidae, though the emotion was most certainly reflected internally as well in the case of Riggs. He turned his attention to
the Captain as he laced his fingers together behind his skull, giving it a place to rest. Despite a laissez-faire attitude, the Corvidaen was genuinely concerned for the Captain's health. He was just also concerned about more pressing matter at the same time.
