Otto nods, eyes on his work. He can't say the same, of course. Whatever else you might say about the Alliance, they're at least good about keeping their civilian contractors on the down-low; Otto's barely interacted with any metas openly, much less been in the field.

It's obviously for the best. He'd only get himself killed. But it leaves him with an odd feeling of guilt, sometimes.

"I'll do what I can." And the salad is done! Feels like it took him too long, though he couldn't have done it much quicker without a few extra pairs of hands. "Better to leave that to the showboaters anyway." He's still not a big fan of Fantastic in this universe.