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"Why would you choose to spend so much time with these… humans. Do your interests not align?" Ramattra asks, politely as he is able to. He only just manages to keep the disdain out of his tone. The party is formal-- superficial is the necessary attitude to keep.
Maximilien hums. The hand not holding his drink rolls a coin across his fingers, back and forth, little clinks that grate on Ramattra's frayed nerves. "Is it not a matter of neutrality? Money talks, you know. Where it comes from doesn't change the value-- unless the exchange rates are unfavourable, of course." A calculated pause. He takes a sip of his drink, some pretentious brand of oil that Ramattra cannot stand, but will stomach for the status when it comes. Afterward, Maximilien levels the taller omnic a stare over the lip of the glass. "Surely of anyone here, you could understand the concept of loyalty, no?"
Warnings flash in Ramattra's vision. As much as Maximilien's statement is just that, a statement-- it is also a threat. There's a growl in the back of his synth that threatens to slip. Who does Maximilien think he is, insinuating the nature of Null Sector's alliance is anything but true? No matter the validity of his statement. Ramattra's suddenly thankful for his own head of finances.
It is at that moment that Zenyatta returns, their drinks in hand. He takes the glass from his companion, and takes a polite sip after a quick thank you. His optics, however, remain locked with Maximilien's, nothing but glass separating the two.