Not surprisingly, even though Mike had assured them that no one was allowed to where uniforms or reveal their affiliation in "No Town," Baxter only grew more uncomfortable. He doubted any loyal Zeon soldier who had a chance at recognizing a traitor among the crowd would just sit back and let him walk away undisturbed. The whole idea seemed a bit too-good-to-be-true him. He remembered hearing old stories from the world before Man expanded his reach into space, when wars were fought purely on the ground and, on occasion, the sky. He heard little anecdotes about how two armies would call a ceasefire on Christmas Day to play football together, or things like that. Each man was treated as a man, not a faceless target. "We are all simply human," as Mike said.<br/><br/>He had a hard time believing such things could be possibly here, though. Zeon were utterly ruthless; even civilians weren't often spared. And no man was going to sit down and have a friendly drink with the one he believed was his oppressor. But Baxter kept all of this to himself, actually hoping this could be a case where he was dead wrong. The last thing he needed was to parade himself around in front of an enemy that could recognize him. He wished he had at least snuck a sidearm with him. "What's the curfew for returning to base?" he asked instead, watching the horizon.