Hearing him talk so negatively, she arced an eyebrow. "You seem to take the prospect pretty lightly," she stated, somewhat confused as to why he was so relaxed about this. "You're talking about prison, right? I'm not really up to speed when it comes to slang and all that." She shifted a little where she sat, with her handbag still on her lap, and looked over to the bar, curious as to when their drinks would arrive. At least the smoke had by now become bearable, though Maren figured that it wasn't actually a good thing, all things considered. "As for jobs, yeah, I know a few people who might need a few things. Friend of mine asked for replacement optronics for his busted Bustard, which got caught in the gravitational well of Omega-41's neutron star, and the radiation grilled most of it. Bit of titanium as well." She shrugged, giving him a look. "But all that's hardly what you specialize in, right? So tell me: What kind of weapons are we talking about, and do they include heavy battleship ordnance?" she asked him amicably.