[Deep into his interviews now, Guy could immediately make a call on the people who were just bad at talking. He could relate - certainly better than he could relate to confident, demanding bravado, even though he knew perfectly well how to manage that too. Well, it wasn't like talking would be what they needed when they were in the Drift.

The lounging young American who sits across from him looks relaxed and easygoing, for his part, even in this stiff interview room under these circumstances. He wears a tied-off construction jumper and hands are scarred and rough, a worn pair of gloves shoved into his back pocket while he's inside filling out forms - definitely hard labor class.

He sizes his partner up, and smiles pleasantly.]

Red. And, my name is Guy Cecil. Nice to meet you. What's yours?