“Never been an issue before.” Bones broke. With the right kind of coercion a man of the right disposition would force himself into the smallest of spaces just to get away from the big bastards trying to kick his teeth in. “Why, you volunteering?” Osten tilted his head slightly. “Or you volunteering one of the others?” Either idea was as entertaining as the other. “Maybe. We stand to be more interesting than the others anyway.” An observation of a group of people given a certain level of power and an incentive. He reckoned that’d be worth the watch. “Whatever the motive, I don’t trust something that has people watching people on camera.” With the aim to eventually take them out.
Osten’s face pulled into a faint smirk. “Hit them wrong enough times, it’ll have the same effect.” He never had been the kind to put fucking bamboo slivers under anybody’s nails. “More satisfying.” Got the endorphins working, et cetera. Especially if they were trussed up like a punch-bag. Chin raising with a questioning air, he tried to consider – not for the first time – just how he would replace his usual regime within the confines of this floor. It was limited at its best. The nick had better access. “With you.” He wasn’t questioning what she’d said; he’d heard it once already. Part of him was wondering the how and why behind it, though. Her grin caused him to raise an eyebrow, a hand straying to pinch the bridge of a nose that had been broken countless times, then opening in a shrug. “Not an issue. Got a face only a mother could love.” Couldn’t ever accuse him of being vain enough to care what it looked like either.