She couldn't help rolling her eyes at 'Ms. Spook', was this guy for real? She<i>did</i>turn to face him, especially since the armoured woman remained impassive. Spook had to stifle a laugh, mixed with a snort of disgust when he consulted his notes and then named the wrong leg. If he'd bothered to check her instead of his slate it would've been obvious which one of her limbs was prosthetic, classic bureaucracy she supposed. Still she kept quiet and listened to the man recite his little speech, the word 'terminate' catching her attention both times it came up. One day in a cell? Considering what she'd been expecting, this was hardly even a slap on the wrist. WatchTower was a lot softer than she'd been led to believe. It must have been decided on some spreadsheet somewhere that a bullet in the brain and corpse cleanup was more expensive than the process she was currently going through. It was probably more paperwork at any rate.<br/><br/>Spook wasn't about to ask most of the questions on her mind, even if the man could answer. What had happened between Typhoon Mary and the clowns chiefly among them. The best case was incriminating them by association with her, at worst it would tip off the PMC that there was more trouble out there to look into. There was one thing, useless as it was.<br/><br/>"How much would someone have to pay to 'claim' me?" There were few people she could reliably contact for that, and none that she'd want to. Owing money was always dangerous and at the moment she had no way to repay even a small price. Mostly Spook was curious, it could be something to add to her resume if the amount was high. 'WatchTower says I'm worth X credits.' Sure, why not?<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>