"Right, the scoring. I forgot about that." He shrugs. "It means very little, frankly."

The man's expression is one Albert's not unused to seeing. Guarded, but not unnaturally, as if he's had a lot of practice at being guarded and it's worked its way into his demeanor as a kind of default state of at ease. No soldier who's seen combat is ever truly at ease. He knows he isn't, especially not after his outburst on the network.

He doesn't offer a handshake, nor does he offer any other form of touch as a greeting, instead inclining his head politely. "Albert Heinrich. District 3."