Roscoe gave the screen a bow, and turned it off. Donning the suit and helmet to his side, he reflected on what he had been told...
Roscoe felt... what was it? Of all the things said to him, all that he was told, none of them softened the conflict in his mind. He still didn't understand them. This harrowing feeling, like he was about to vomit his brains, what was it? Was it the now obvious fact he was [i\]not going home[/i] for a [i\]long time[/i]? No.
They had betrayed him.
He hated them for it, like [i\]never[/i] before. Literally. Had he ever a thought of treason? A single imagining of bettering [i\]anyone[/i] besides his leader's gains?
[i\]Years[/i] of nodding his head in acceptance, [i\]years[/i] of good work and jobs well done, [i\]years[/i] of looking away, turning the cheek, of borderline sycophancy and subservience. [b\][i\]Years.[/i][/b]
And the only reward he wanted, and got, was a meal, a bed, peace of mind, and his precious trinkets.
He looked, to the passing spectator, like a very life-like, and very angry statue. He was stock still, and fuming.
He saw the others drawing attention to a barrel.
Calming himself, before his newfound anger got a hold of him, he walked to them.
The walk calmed him... why had be been so angry?
He felt like it was a trifle silly, looking back on it now... no.
The helmet! He cast the thing from him in a sudden shock. Wringing his hands, as though it would have given him a sort of vile, festering, plague. They were using it to monitor him, it had detected mild emotional responses and was redirecting his thoughts.
He started to cringe upon looking at it. Turning quickly, making himself look more regal (Like an officer should look...) he continued walking.
"What..." He began quietly... and then he paused... he hadn't spoken to anyone in a long time, he should choose his words carefully...
"As newly appointed Senior Officer of this crew, I take it upon myself to know my crew. As such, I will have all occurences reported to me."
Pretty good start, a little too quiet though, he'd work on that... gazing slightly to the barrel, he recognized... someone he didn't recognize.
"Who is this?"