"A professional," Nanowire repeated, trying the word on for size. Smoke drifted lazily up from his cigarette, wrapping around his skull plate before continuing up towards the ceiling. Was he a "professional", and if he was, did he want to be one? Doing this for a living seemed... well, wrong, for one, but morality seemed to become less and less important as time went on. But it would also be small, criminally so, if one could forgive the obvious irony. Nanowire knew he was meant for more.
"No, I don't think so," he said. "It's a job for me, not a life choice." Nanowire dropped the remains of his cigarette on the ground and crushed them underfoot. No, he would not be so constrained in the future. This was the end of these petty crimes. Whether that meant he'd stop crime altogether, or those crimes would all the more grandiose, he wasn't sure.
He took a look around the room as he considered just that.