<div class="floatright">(http://1-media-cdn.foolz.us/ffuuka/board/tg/image/1337/09/1337095155450.jpg)</div>"Because you've got better things to do, or have a better way to make money." While the inflection wasn't precisely a question, it wasn't exactly a statement either. Most people might be shocked to hear a kobold speaking that way, the way they were often treated causing them to have an almost instinctive subservient attitude towards the sapient mammalian races. "I don't think any of us would be here if we didn't need to be, and weren't willing to sign up for dangerous jobs. As for getting squished," he gave the Sam a glance before turning back to Lady Heurassian, "unlikely. I've gone down to mine a number of times. It happens that the skimmers aren't fast enough to retrieve miners, or that the sandwurms come too quickly, but not enough of the miners die to stop us from going down and continuing to work," he says.<br/><br/>It could easily have been "my people" instead of "the miners", but the words didn't touch his lips, and "us" felt more collective. Regardless, there was a certain bitterness in his voice, and he shot a last word to their employer. "Right?" he asks after another beat or three, gazing her in an almost challenging manner, though with his beady eyes and reptilian snout, devoid of many of the muscles that communicated body language amongst mammals.<br/><br/>Despite the lack of body language, his insides boiled, and another kobold would have smelled the faint phermone that indicated repressed anger within him. He hated the company, hated the corporation, hated what it did to his kind, and hated its focus on profits and uncaring attitude to the body count as long as efficiency was maxed. He glanced down at his clawed hands and wondered to himself if he alone was strong enough to rip apart the chains that forced his people into servitude. A swift shake of his head loosened the thoughts within, and he glanced back at the owner, whether he was willing to go obvious from his earlier question.