[His wrists lower but the smirk stays plastered on his face. He knows he faces a life-time of jail. He's too young for that but looking back on the past barely-two decades of his life he's sure he deserves it. He knew it wasn't a particularly noble or good life; he tried to do right by it in his circumstances, had his own moral codes that still had to be kept in the confines of an amoral life, but it was the only kind of life he knew.

It never crossed his mind it could even be anything else.

Now that it is crossing his mind, the smirk falters. He struggles with what to do with it for a moment which just lends himself to looking a little confused.

It's not like Deadlock was out there murdering or pillaging... they didn't have blood on their hands (most of the time!), they were just moving products so others could go out and do whatever they were going to do with it. Start wars. Stop wars. Protect. Destroy. Save. Kill. Whatever their reasons were, it was never any of Deadlock's reasons. A weapon was just a weapon--only thing that mattered was the hand that used it.

Jesse McCree never really questioned what he'd do if any of that was in his hands. Now he sits here in this jail cell, being presented with this "choice" like he actually has one to make. There's a flash of anger in his eyes, they dart from Jack to Gabe and a sneer starts to form.]

What... going out there? Saving the world? Yeah, sure, sounds great. Fillin' your ranks with ex-gang members to do it. [He half spins in his chair, gesturing to the otherwise empty room, his voice raising a little.] That how you two started out?