[h3][b][u][center]Max Carter[/center][/u][/b][/h3]
It wasn’t that Max wasn’t paying any attention to the meeting, but it certainly would have seemed that way. Relegated to the back, tucked away, with his jumpsuit unzipped and tied around his waist, a loose white-grey t-shirt covered in yesterday's grease stains where his nametag should have been. He watched as Gillmore demonstrated all the equipment, shuddering at the thought of strapping himself to anything with that much electricity ‘contained’ within it. No, his attention was drawn to the trap which flew much like a drone, albeit a clumsy, clunky one. He couldn’t help but wonder when he’d be able to get his hands on it and test it out while the others risked death by anti-matter.

As the demonstration continued, Max took a look at the ‘spirit guide’ given to him. Flicking through a few pages, he couldn't help but realize he sure did have a lot of studying ahead of him. The guide was thick with illustrations, diagrams, and scribbled notes that seemed to speak of a thousand ghostly encounters. As Gillmore and Rochester took their leave, Max threw open his workbook and started tapping his pencil against the desk in a rhythmic pattern, one that someone with any musical inclination might recognize as Scorpions’ ‘Rock You Like a Hurricane.’ He hummed along quietly to himself, the melody a small escape from the daunting task ahead.

As the meeting wrapped up, Max noticed one person moving over to the table of equipment. A pang of resentment flickered through him as they started messing with the trap-drone he had a keen interest in. 

[colour=cyan]“Is anyone gonna be sharing the answers?”[/colour] he spoke abruptly, breaking the silence, [colour=cyan]“I thought I was just about done with tests..” letting out a long, exasperated sigh.[/colour]