Ferus stands up slowly, stretching himself, the bones in his back popping, then down through his tail. He nods his head to Samuel and gives a soft chuckle, shaking it in semi-dismissal after the acknowledgement. "Sounds like they don't want their grunts to have the good stuff because they're afraid it might fall into the wrong hands. I can't blame them, every military outfit is the same way... but still... I can get good parts from them I bet. And... once I start making my own counter-argument to their shit, I bet they bring out some better equipment real quick. I love to see a good escalation."<br/><br/>For a brief moment, the bloodlust in his eyes almost seems to be a dark red gleam in that empty blackness, but it fades just as quickly as he puts his hat back on his head, and makes a dismissive gesture, thanking the bartender and giving his farewell to the feline himself as he moves toward the door. "Hey cat. Try and not get yourself killed, eh? You seem like the type who might appreciate getting to pick the shiny bits out of the mess that people are trying to make out of this city. Profitable, that." And with that he turns out to the street, moving through the alleys and sniffing at the air every now and again, to see if he can't get lucky and find some hapless snack while he is moving toward home.