[ Thank goodness aqua is obscured so easily by the camo-unit. The stripes and shades of brown she's presently sporting are hardly uncommon on a planet where rocky terrain and dry summer heat were a regular hapstance.
There's an almost mechanical turn of her head, raptor-like cant offered as hidden green gaze watches the man slides into the booth, seating himself opposite and opening negotiations with a casual glibness that would have earned him a cool look and perhaps a swift kick under the table in another lifetime.
In this one, the question earns him silence to start, the hiring mercenary appearing to be sizing him up as Carolina's skin prickles at the sound of his voice. The accent is dreadful. And not familiar. Not really. It's like a poor man's imitation of Wyoming, and she's not at all intimidated. Not by this..this civvy, who looks nothing like someone who could handle the sort of locks she needs cracking.
Which might mean he's exactly what she needs. Maybe.
And yet something sets her head whirling, a cold finger tracing a path up her spine.
She's glad, suddenly, that Epsilon had been messing with the filter settings within her helmet, the meddlings of his boredom resulting in a disguise for her true voice: her words are pitched higher, spoken with a lilt more akin to a newscaster from Tribute than the ducet tones of Agent Carolina. ]
No, 'fraid not. [smoothly, her hands move to rest palm up on the table, briefly revealing the datapad beneath one arm] Not a good habit to have in my line of work.
Re: Whoops shoulda left a note
There's an almost mechanical turn of her head, raptor-like cant offered as hidden green gaze watches the man slides into the booth, seating himself opposite and opening negotiations with a casual glibness that would have earned him a cool look and perhaps a swift kick under the table in another lifetime.
In this one, the question earns him silence to start, the hiring mercenary appearing to be sizing him up as Carolina's skin prickles at the sound of his voice. The accent is dreadful. And not familiar. Not really. It's like a poor man's imitation of Wyoming, and she's not at all intimidated. Not by this..this civvy, who looks nothing like someone who could handle the sort of locks she needs cracking.
Which might mean he's exactly what she needs. Maybe.
And yet something sets her head whirling, a cold finger tracing a path up her spine.
She's glad, suddenly, that Epsilon had been messing with the filter settings within her helmet, the meddlings of his boredom resulting in a disguise for her true voice: her words are pitched higher, spoken with a lilt more akin to a newscaster from Tribute than the ducet tones of Agent Carolina. ]
No, 'fraid not. [smoothly, her hands move to rest palm up on the table, briefly revealing the datapad beneath one arm] Not a good habit to have in my line of work.