[It's more than likely that he's noticed, along with the plethora of other scars and marred skin that Dodger has. But he's not the conversational nosy type, and unless Dodger gives him a reason, he feels no reason to ask. Probably got mouthy with someone and got punched, stole from the wrong person and instigated a fight--that's his thought process on it.

He would agree that Riverview was a touch too calm from the way he's used to things. It gives him too much time to think. Too much time to reflect on what could be or what never will be; it gives him too much time to sit idly as his body burns and heals and he actually has to think about that pain. With no real outlets...

Here he is, as the day nears night when one should be settling down for the evening, partying or going to bed--heading out to the parimeter wall to see if there's anything to shoot at without concequences. Perfectly Normal.]

Don't hate information brokers. But do know that they're only as good as their information. So either you're a smart one, or a careful one. Don't tell me which, I don't really care. [Friendly. He turns to give the other a look. Dodger might not be able to see his eyes, but there's something slightly unnatural, glowing under the black hollows of his mask.]

Oh, sure. I could cause havoc. Easily. All I'd have to do is fly around the housing quarters and I'd cause mass panic.

I'm not interested in terrorising civilians.