Toreth only smiled mercilessly as he watched the other man jostling, the other man apparently having a hard time of it in a transport like this. The key was sitting with your legs spread, feet planted firmly on the floor with your back straight against the barrier, just as Toreth was doing now. It helped with the sliding, though not with the bouncing -- that was just inevitable. Toreth didn't care enough to pass on the advice like he might have to a private.

He counted the anger in the other man's voice as a victory, satisfied with ripping away that smart tongue for the time being. So, someone was all show after all, now that they were alone.

"Suit yourself. Suppose you're more delicate than you look after all." Toreth laughed derisively, then muttered to himself, "permanent fucking scars." The scientist must really be on some sort of high horse, then, if he was tossing that around in regards to fucking military personnel. Toreth might have been offended if he weren't so self-assured of his looks.

He apparently lost interest in his charge, then, one gloved hand reaching into his front pocket to pull out a few folded documents. Reminding himself of where he had to take the civvie once they got to their destination, and who he had to pass the fucker onto.