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Of to the side eating quietly Cairo lets a slight laugh and small smile escape his lips before speaking "heh, honestly most of those are just liars. They wanna act like they can help people and they know what its like to be the little guy while the grew up in those million dollar mansions, but most of the time those dumb bastards cant even begin to understand the idea of empathy." he says getting ready to go on an absolute rant but stops himself so he can ask a question "a-anyway before i go on and on for a damn hour heres an interesting question. What's your opinion on the different tattoo style types? like the tribal tats or them yakuza tattoos?

"Tattoos? Those don't really work on fur," the wolf replied, brushing a glove covered paw against their fur. "If I didn't have fur, maybe I'd get one, but, I've got enough pain on my plate as is. However, I see them on the human folk around here quite often, at least whenever its warm enough to show bare skin for long enough to tattoo, even indoors it can get frigid. Other than that, I don't really know too much about them really, the ones with meaning are pretty cool enough."

The wolf rubbed their paws together, their breath condensing in the air. "As for you, do you like the cold or the heat better?"

Burt tilted her head and looked at Raymond quizzically. "Nevermind me, I'm trying to decide if you're the son of my old boss or his honchos..." he said, ruffling his tuft of hair. He was just kidding, of course. Scent told him that Raymond wasn't from hi old pack, but every time he ran into wolf people he was just reminded so strongly of the Wolf King that he couldn't resist a playful jabor two.

"Alright, nevermind - back to serious stuff. Hot or cold? Whatta kind of question is *that*? Of course hot beats cold! The blazing heat of burning cars or trash bins is really something! Or a nice steamin' barbecue, with the smoke 'n the smell of burnin' meat... my mouth waters just thinkin' of it!"

Counting off his fingers, he continued: "Also! When it's hot, girls go 'round wearin' those nice short dresses, what they're called - sun-dress? Even the name says it - sun dress! There isn't somethin' like... I don't know, snow-dress! In heat you take off clothes, in cold you put 'em on - 'less you have a fur like mine, heh!" he boasted, puffing up his chest and striking a macho pose.. "Snow, rain, cold, pfff it's nothin' for Wonder Claws!"

"Now, a more important thing... what's your opinion on' beer? Yer favorite kind? Light or dark? Pint, mug or gallon?"

Sierra Nevada Pale Ale by the bottle, schooner, or keg is a damn fine beer. There’s a cold keg of it out at the old campground on the Mokelumne River ready to be drank. Give me a craft brewery pale and I’m happy! IPAs are damn good too. But all things in moderation. Don’t drive if you get shirtfaced. Sleep in your car and drive home in the morning.”

Jay took a breath and sighed.

“What is your opinion on magic mushrooms? Are they worthy of taking a five hour trip through the astral plane or a hard pass for their benign cousins on a pizza?”

Greed, the hanged corpse jumps down and then flipped a coin towards Jay, without saying anything to him. He just stare until he said something. Silent dude i must say.
"Aye, I'd say magic mushrooms are okay i guess? I mean it makes me a little giant than usual. But pizza's okay as well. But now, it's time for the most important part of this game anyway. I don't feel like talking much anyway." Greed's coins eyes spin. They signal a question mark. "Say... What's your opinion on having to be trapped in a basement full of monsters, treasure rooms, shops, devil/angel rooms, secret areas and etc?"

“Well….considering I spent a fair amount of time incarcerated being trapped anywhere is not an experience I’d wish on anyone.” He shrugged.

“Whats your opinion on having zero boundaries?”

"If we are being brutally honest, zero boundaries doesn't exist. Everyone, and everything, has a boundary of some sort. But for the purpose of this conversation, having zero boundaries means you're either a pushover to the absolute worst degree, Or, you are the one pushing other people's boundaries, without a modicum of respect for both yourself and the other person." Gerallt took a second to think before adding; "Zero boundaries is a red flag either way."

"What's your opinion on weapons? Hand crafted ones?"

Now that is a subject Samson is well versed in as he draws his own hand crafted sword from its sheath and admiring it as he holds it in his large hands, "There is not quite like forging your own weapon, or something for someone else. It almost becomes a part of you because you put you're heart and soul into it. And if it comes out perfect, there is a sense of satisfaction because you have succeeded in creating something so beautiful. But if you mess up," He shrugs his massive shoulders, putting his sword back where it belongs, "Then that is a learning experience on what NOT to do so you end up improving as a blacksmith."

"What's your opinion on the Girdle of Femininity?

"You mean to tell me instead of spending six-hundred thousand gil on top surgery and alchemical augmentations in Thavnair - which I'm still paying off, po dra fyo - I could have just worn some stupid magical belt?"

Vlatka quit chewing the end of her cigarette, now holding it in her forefingers. She almost dropped it onto the ground in sheer astonishment.

"Where do you even find things like this? Is this some more crap mages gatekeep?" A sneer followed, crossing her pink lips. "You know what, whatever. I don't need anymore magic than I've paid for. I bet it isn't permanent anyway. Enough people try to sell you snake oil. That's why you have to be self-sufficient these days. It's, uh, what do you call it. An economic decision for do-it-yourself stuff."

The cigarette is dumped to the ground, apparently its ultimate fate anyway. Then, she ground it with the bottom of her boot, wiping a smear of ash in the dirt.

We Al Bhed, we don't need magic. Can't use it, so we use machina instead. Probably a lot more reliable, too. I trust them with anything." A beat passed. "Almost anything."

"So, what's your opinion on firearms? Pistols, rifles, handcannons, the like?"

"... hmm, and bazookas, mortars....? Right up my alley!" Somehow, that got a chuckle out of the masked woman. But her eyes were lit up with interest at the question; weapons were a subject that she liked talking about.

"Well, the way I see it - firearms are the better option when you got to keep your opponent at distance. Perhaps because they're physically stronger, or they have larger reach - say, multiple limbs - or even just more numerous. That's where nothin' like firearms can save the day. Also, firespitters in general tend to work better at intimidation. You get out a gun, people will rarely gamble their lives on whether it's loaded, or if you're going to use it on them. Blades, on the other hand, work best when you have your opponent at close distance and can run 'em through. Personally, I think both weapons types are equally useful and valuable, if you know when to draw one or the other. And that knowledge comes with experience."

She shrugged, thinking over the next question. "Partially related. What's your opinion on unarmed combat?"

"Unarmed combat? Seems like it's right up my alley." Kazimira's eyes glinted with mischief. She pulled up her sleeves, and flicked her biceps - from years of physical activity, they had become lean and toned. "I don't live an inherently violent existence," she joked, "but I feel like, with a bit of training, I could pack a punch." Kazi pulled her sleeves down again, and shrugged. "Also, the last time someone gave me a gun - unwise decision, to be honest - I almost blew off the ringmaster's head."

Kazimira raised an eyebrow. "Now, how do we feel about heights?"

Noros looks up from his paperwork stacked on his desk. "How do I feel about heights?", he repeated and pounced for a little. "Heights aren't a problem for a creature who can fly", he responded, "Especially from space, it is a huge void with no or barely any gravity with the expectation of planets. That depended on the planet's atmosphere and gravity level. The one I originated from, gravity was 4 times the Earth's gravity."






Noros thought some more then spoke,"What is your opinion on mercenaries?"

"Tch..." Ch-tkt activated his vocabulator. "Just your everyday people doing a tough job," the subtly-mechanical voice spoke from the speaker on his prosthetics harness. "Just like any person, mercenaries vary from one to the other. Some are respectable. Others aren't. Some try to get in my way. A lot of the time I am one. What of it? The universe is a rough place. It takes guts to survive out there in the lawless regions."

Ch-tkt chittered thoughtfully from their actual mouth, then eventually activated their vocabulator again. "The strong do what they need. And it is this strength that creates need for them. But not all of them are born strong. Some obtain strength after losing something. I am better now than I was before I lost my natural arms. But I had to go through a period of what some might consider weakness to get to this point. I am actually glad for it. If given another chance at life, would I trade away my natural arms for my prosthetics? Yes. I would even keep the period I existed without either if it was a set requirement."

"So my question is this. What is your opinion on bionics?"

"Bionics huh?" Hasha looks up from her plate of sandwiches, one still in hand "Honestly? Just another tool. Not inherently good or bad. It all depends on who is using them."

She takes a bite of sandwich before asking "What do you think of vigilantes? Taking justice into your own hands?"

The artist frowned thoughtfully, drumming the eraser end of her pencil on the open page of a little sketchbook she held against her knee. With a little bounce of her leg where it was crossed over the other, she decided, "That depends. There's good vigilantes and bad vigilantes... Sometimes people need a hero who can perform real justice and good when the system in place doesn't do that anymore."

Maisi tilted her head. "Then again, there are vigilantes whose idea of justice is... super-duper screwed up."

She grinned and shrugged, concluding, "So -- good vigilantes good, bad vigilantes bad, I guess. I know it gets complicated, but that's the short version of my opinion."

Looking down at her sketchbook once more, the artist began doodling again as she mused to someone else, "What's your opinion on sports? Are you the kind that finds it invigorating or the kind that couldn't care less?"

Lina was almost too excited to answer this question. She gently bounced between the heels and toes of her feet. "Oh, I love sports! I like to play them more than watch them. It's more fun to play! But a lot of people always assume I don't like sports or that I'm not very good at them." She said with a shrug. "Games are just a good way for me to de-stress or prepare for a tough day at work."


"What are your thoughts on 'fine dining'? The one where food is more artistic than edible."

She looked at the question and sighed. “I don’t hate it but I don’t like either”, she crosses her arms. “The most fine dining I been are either some blind dates or business which is fairly boring in my opinion”, she sighed, “I prefer the flavor of the food being described as artistic then the food itself.”


“What are your thoughts on justice? What does it mean to you?”, she asked.

He thought about it a moment and then smiled. "I guess that Justice to me is something that should be wielded with care and respect for people. It should be something that enhances the quality of life. It should be something that is fairly upheld to enhance the quality of all life."


What is your opinion on paintings versus sculptures?

Jack's eyes dart to the side. No escape routes - he pushes his hair back and sighs.

"Well, I'm not really the arty type. Um, I don't like museums. I got kicked out of the last one we went to, but that wasn't my fault- anyway, I think that anything people put love into is worth looking at, you know?"

His posture loosens a little. There's the touch of a smile playing on his lips.

"Like- with paintings, you can see the brush strokes. And sculptures, they're more fancy, but I've always liked the idea that people sit down and put all their feelings into something. I don't do art, but I make things, and--"

He's still talking. Maybe you should just tune out.

My question: What's your opinion on having lots of expensive material possessions?

"I don't care about it as much as some do in my career", she sips a wine glass filled with wine; specifically a glass of Viognier with intense flavor, dry and bold. It was a rich, oily white wine originating in the Northern Rhône, aged in oak, tangerine, and peach as the primary aromas. "My most expensive possessions is my wine collection", she sighed.





"Speaking of wine, what is your opinion on wine?", she took a sip of it.