He observes a patch of nondescript gray wall, projecting false disinterest as Fring tests his waters and puts forth his not-entirely-inaccurate inquiries.

Rush rolls his head to one side with a calculated apathy redolent of a faint smile, though his expression is too locked, the corners of his mouth too stiff.

"I wasn't aware anyone that competent was in your employ," he remarks lazily. His hands compact into fists and a distant part of him congeals into ice; dispensing mocking running commentary is not likely to increase his chances of speeding up this procedure's conclusion.

One side of his mouth twitches.

"For allegedly finely-trained personnel they do seem frighteningly unobservant."