Brutis stood in silence as the others talked around him, as it has always been. Standing close to his new master… mistress, he glanced around at the blood and had a flash of the corpse-filled trenches back on Trigus Secadus. Slightly shaking his head, he looked up to see the group debating about the package. Brutis had no idea how to help so as he was taught, he wouldn’t say a word until his master… mistress said he could or was addressed directly. As he watched, his eyes kept glancing back to his auto-gun that was stabbed into the floor like a fence post. At once he realized something odd. He was so use to being stripped of his weapons that he had forgotten that he still had his equipment. He reached down and drew his revolver and in one smooth movement, spun it around so it was handle first then withdrew his knife and tossed it up, catching the blade so it was too handle first. Just before they began there search, he spoke, still debating weather talking was worth dying, which was the most common response.
“Mast… Mistress?” as she spun around he offered them to her. “My weapons.”