Around the club, there are not too many booths occupied — some are, but none seem to be focused on what is going on with Felix, Yelena and Bracken. Some people glance at Felix when he turns to look around, but there's no overt interest. The bartender has just finished mixing up a drink and is rounding the bar to take it to a booth nearby; there's no other staff in the club, so it seems she's acting as both the bartender and the waitress.

Bracken's answer draws Felix's attention back to the conversation at hand.

"What's there to understand? They work the same as ghost matter, and the Federation makes them to have something to fight criminals outside this Complex. Good in theory, shit in practice. You're hit with that and it's a death sentence."

At Felix's tone, Bracken fixes him with a stare from his unblinking eyes.

"What's this, a fucking interrogation? Yeah, we prevent others from getting them, and if they do, we get those from them. None of your business what we do with them. Look, I had no reason to answer you in the first place, but I thought I'd be nice to fellow mercenaries. But I think we've exhausted the possibilities of this conversation." He stands up, his full height towering over both of them.

"Good luck with your endeavours, or whatever." And if they don't attempt to stop him, he will leave the booth and head to the exit.