(Colored text is based on perspective. All white is considered third person.<span style="color: #000000">Black</span>is that of the interviewer [Redacted].<span style="color: #400000">maroon</span>is for Niko during the interview. In these posts, imagine a classic psychiatrist chair and lounge. Niko's eyes have faded into a thick silver hue. Now 'legally blind' from nanobots and fading, mentally. His hair has stopped growing after an inch of silver follicle replaced the roots of his hair. He sports a dashing 'salt and pepper' goatee, that of someone in their early forties)<br/><br/>The rims of Nikolas' glasses tap the railing with a metallic click as he closes his eyes and rubs the bridge of his nose. His most recent notebook and what appeared to be a simple black fountain pen held in the same hand as his glasses had been his focus during most of the hour-long speech. It was one thing to read the specs in his spare time, but reading along with the speech as well as taking detailed notes and sketches was simply more to do. Double-checking the schematics could potentially bennefit a project later down the road, and was a good excuse to pay attention for any bit of information that was actually important. Although, this did not mean it was the slightest bit entertaining; it was, in fact, a waste of precious time, but the forty-five minute cool down on SandwichBox was timed well enough that Niko<span style="font-style: italic">almost</span>literally had nothing better to do.<br/><br/>With the apparent conclusion of the speech, he slid the spectacles back on, slipping his pen into the rings of the notebook before stopping, the man continuing with the credit going to his script writer<span style="color: #400000">who seemed like a smart man to me..."<br/><br/>"...a poet. You don't need to have PhD to be smart, so, just...don't, today."</span><br/><span style="color: #000000">"Didn't sleep too well, again, Doctor Light?"</span><br/><span style="color: #400000"><span style="font-size: 50%; line-height: 116%;">*pauses to sigh*</span><br/>"No, but I'd prefer it if you didn't sass me, this session, as well"</span><br/><span style="color: #000000">"Was it about-"</span><br/><span style="color: #400000">"-Or ask questions that are off topic...besides, I could <span style="font-style: italic">never</span> forget it, anyway."</span><br/><span style="color: #000000">...</span><br/><span style="color: #400000">"I'm sorry" <span style="font-size: 50%; line-height: 116%;">*at this time, Doctor Nikolas Light pours himself a double scotch on the rocks, his "self-prescribed treatment" for his condition...which has shown results, given the circumstance. Of course, the side effects are apparent in the transcript readback.*</span></span><br/><br/><span style="color: #400000">"As I was saying, I considered the looks on the faces of the other crewmen, and</span>in that moment, Niko realized people believed in this reclamation. They chose to be here. They gave up what they had to potentially never return. Niko......glanced across the expression of the woman known as 'Kindle' and, for a moment, returned the looks to the small squad of secret police dispersed across the crowd below who had been assigned to assure Niko left with the ship.<br/>It was the resentment for his situation that caused Niko to reject the speech in favor of his own adaptation:<br/><br/><span style="color: #400000">"Humanity's will is to survive...all it took was an apocalypse for everyone to see it. Well, everyone who was left. Those that didn't share in the mindset were the ones who started the cataclysm. With roughly five-percent of <span style="font-style: italic">us</span> remaining...everyone wanted to be a hero, and there was nobody to stop the fools from trying to be one"</span><br/><span style="color: #000000">...</span><br/><span style="color: #400000">"...And mankind would be better off if the names that made the world capable of sustaining heroes were forgotten."</span><br/><br/>"Here here" Niko cheerfully chirped, clanging the metal rings of his notebook against the railing before starting off towards his quarters a few seconds later, the timer on his watch beeping twice before he stopped it on his way quickly down the stairs.