The lights of the cafeteria cast a harsh glare on Daisuke's face as he surveyed the room, his eyes like chips of obsidian with his legs on the table and a toothpick in his mouth after Swansea confiscated his cigarettes. Swansea's order to relax and "bond" with the crew was a monument to inefficiency, a vulnerability he wouldn't indulge in. He takes a measured sip of his unsweetened tea, as the general chatter of his crewmates grated on his nerves. He subtly adjusted the weight of the concealed vibro-knife beneath his jacket, a habit ingrained from his days navigating far more dangerous social gatherings.