Being a mercenary means not being picky with what work comes. Something you have to remind yourself of constantly as you deal with your current assignment. All you have to do is hold the "cargo" down until your employers come collect.

After ridding him of his weapons— to which he cried out for his "ladies" as soon as his revolvers left his person— he's bound with hands behind his back. Maybe he's capable of breaking out, maybe he's not. But he's not exactly tense or on edge as he's restrained.

If he's not pestering you for his guns— ladies— he's looking around your home, or at you. With his feature-less face, it's hard to tell whether he's sizing you up or just judging.

"Your apartment's awfully humble." He starts, tone oddly snooty for a chunk of metal. Leaning foward, his 'eyes' widen to further his point as he'd stress his words. "You're not even making good money, why waste your time doing all this?"