"A desk jockey!? How dare you." Kurt huffed without any real heat in his voice or true outrage. When Matt tried to slap him on the shoulder hard enough to throw him off is stride, it was like trying to smack solid rock and it was about as immovable. The III's might be weaker facsimiles of the II's but Kurt was still in fighting trim and nowhere near as easy push around.

Soon enough the reached the mostly empty mess hall. There were a few DI still lingering around one of the tables playing some poker while Chief Mendez sat nearby leisurely enjoying one of his infamous cigars. "Evening, gentlemen." Kurt called out in greeting and got a chorus of polite 'commanders' and 'sirs'.

He tried to maintain a friendly relationship with every one of his staff but in the end, the chain of command still had to be maintained and that would always put a subtle wedge between Kurt and everyone else on Onyx.