Jean-Baptiste sighed. He knew where Bob was going, same place Bob always took things if at all possible. It was troublesome at times, but he'd learned to put up with it and had even come to develop a sort of grudging respect for the man's greed and honestly spectacular ability to market anything and everything he could get his hands on. In some ways it mirrored his own life of selling his aptitude for combat, and their skillsets made them a good team. He hoped Bob wouldn't give him a reason to kill him. "Yes, yes, I get it, you want money I don't have. The choicest of company comes with a price and I had very good company during shore leave. I'll get back to you after Boss Mask pays us for our next assignment, yes? A man's head should stay private as a matter of principle".

As for the new pilots, he knew they'd agree on that before he even asked. "They might be greener than grass, but watching the fresh meat "fight" should be good fun, don't you think? Group like this, I bet they're going to be at eachother's throats before we even get called out. One hundred american says someone starts something at the cafeteria".