Groups
Description
Standing at a mere five feet tall, mouse is no intimidator. His skinny, sickly build ads to his appearance of disgust and utter smallness. The long, brown, greasy hair that occupies the top of his head is typically pinned back from his face, revealing his dead, yet somehow still intense, brown eyes. He is usually dressed in a jacket, t-shirt, and jeans. At all times he can be found with various bags and packs on him, his sort of portable shop.
Personality
Trusts no-one. he'll steal from you the first chance he gets, and it will take a while to become an near-trustable customer (or "friend") of his. He'll know when you want something, and he'll have it. Even though he may look small-time, he is fairly large in the drug-dealing world.
Equipment
A switch-blade, saturday night special, and a crack-pipe... All one needs to get by.
Wares:
Sodapops - "Make you happy 'n sleepy. called sodapops cause they make you feel fizzy inside."
Marijuana - "Gotta hundred diff'rent kinds, cheep too."
BonBons - "This here's the only REAL aphrodesiac. Radiats some kind a' aura and makes yer boobs bigger. or yer dick if yer a man."
Brik-a-brak - "You ever seen a guy go freekin' insane and be happy about it?"
Dumb Honey - "By far the only good halucenimajiger. Not a bad trip ever, Gar-un-teed."
Cache - "See them strips of pink rubbery stuff, that ain't big league chew. that's a high-fructose sleeping thing that makes you smart as a fox after a two minute nap. make's you a fucking INVINCIBLE swordfighter and hand-to-hander."
Derserkerbeserker - "like PCP, but a lot more fun. makes you feel like a cyborg gorilla."
Pilots Bane - "Shit, you fly spaceplanes? Well you must know what it's like to snooz off with precsous cargo. two mg of this and you'll be awake for fucking HOURS."
Doppleganger - "Different for errone, but consistantly so. You have a bad side? Everyone does."
just a few of his specialties. But he has EVERYTHING. ask him for it and he'll have it cheeper and in more quantaty than the other guys.
Mouse Strolls into the bar with a crooked smile that revieled all of his brownish, disgusting teeth.
Mouse Found a nice, shaded corner to stand in. From the linty pockets of his jean jacket, he found and drew out his handy, dandy crack pipe. From he lower, pant pocket he took out a lighter and began a-smokin'.
Mouse He took a long hard draw and held it in for about a minute. With a wide exhale that shook every portion of his little mishapen body, he let out the chemically fumes from his mouth and nostrils to float about the bar.
Mouse Takes another draw in the same fasion and places the pipe carfuly on a near-by stool, hoping someone would see he was open for buisiness. He produced a boby pin from one of his jean jacket pockets and pulled his long greasy hair from out of his face.
Mouse Took out a pre-rolled blunt from a random spot somewhere behind his ear. he stuck it in his mouth and just chewed lightly, not caring to put a flame to its tip.
Mouse Stops chewing for a moment and opens his mouth, letting the dooby drop to the floor. He stares foreward for a moment then turns to Xian the Bard. "You interupted me..." His eyes opened wide, "You better be wantin' to be doin' business"
Mouse His face blank and unamusuzed, he asks back to Xian the Bard "What do you want? i got a helluva lot'ta coke on me, among other things." He inhaled a deep wheezy breath and blinked sharply then returned his fixed stare to the man.
Mouse Throws a small twichy glance to Mason Giles for a second, then returns to XIAN THE BARD.
Mouse Lets out a small, choppy sigh as Xian the Bard takes his product in haste. He slides down against a wall to a sitting position. With a snort and a spit he tilts his head back and shuts his eyes wearily.
Mouse Opened his eyes slowly, his head still pressed against the wall reveeling his large, vulture-like adams apple. "You..." he couldnt think of anything to say for a moment, "Shut the hel'lup, you've not gotten the right to tell me where and where i can't sell." He closed his eyes for a second or two, re-opened them and added, "you fucker."
Mouse Stood up in an awkward fasion, sliding back up the wall. He stared at West straight in the eye. The abruptly produced gun had no effect on his dazed and screwed-up mind. "What the fuck you gon' do with that? you gon' shoot me?" he smiled and opened his jacket to indicate a clear target, "do it. i really don' care any more." He ment it... he evaded death in to many situations and figured death might as well catch up. "Do it, you asshole!" his smile widened and his stare intesified. "DO IT"
Mouse yelled upward at some unknown god-figure in his mind, "FUCK! is it that hard to kill my skinny ass withou' some good-doer-gooder stepin' in?"
:O WE'VE BEEN DITCHED :C oh well, i just start over by a wall, setting up shop i guess?
Mouse Sat up against the wall stunned at the vanishment of the man holding the gun, "well, shi'" He slid back down the wall into a crouching position and lit a blunt in his mouth. He looked up at Mason Giles "I do... what? you gon' turn me in, Mr. Fed?" he chuckled to himself as the slap-happiness the pot brought on began to set in.
Mouse "Mah help?" His dull, cadaver-like face looked up with a dismal spark of intrigue, "I could always be of services." A dumb smile crept across his face.
Mouse "That shit? i got some back at the 'partment. It's bad, man, i only carry it on special order. 'Say its been brought in from a 'nother world. I'd believe 'em considering some o' the creatures ive seen using it. It's a high grade stimulant, makes you practically psychotic. Its all chem, brewed god knows where. i get ran up to me by whoever. Lemme tell you now, because i like you, you dont want any of THAT shit."
"Fuel? That's old news... nothing but crack playing dressup. Purple's as bad as it gets." The last sentence was said with definite grave finality. "You gon' pester me more or buy sometin'?"
Mouse Steps into the bar, a semi-toothless grin showing just beneath his thin gotee and scarred up face. His beady eyes shifted about the bar, and as his gaze fell onto each of the patrons they would feel the chill that is constant to this wicked little man. With a loud smokers cough, He wobbled over to the bar and started tapping the counter vigorously to get the Bartender's attention. He coughed again and spat a viscous yellowish slime onto the floor.
Mouse "a bottle of whatever stout you got, friend. and take your time, im already half-wasted"" he attempted a wink at the man. He produced his fancy glass-art crack pipe from one of his jacket's many inner pockets and a neat little bic lighter from another. With shaky hands, he began the process of heating the rock and sucking in the chemical smoke. Somehow, his eyes became even more shifty and he coughed up another spitwad onto the seat next to him. Twisting around in his chair, his face contorted into a sickly smile. "I'm Open for business, ladies and gentlemen" he told either no-one or everyone.
Mouse Produced from a jacket pocket a jar of "Twitch" crystals and gave it a little noisy shake. He shrugged off Jack Kelly and looked about the bar for someone, possibly a spacer, interested. He sniffed in heavily and slowly began to put the jar back in his pocket. just slowly enough...
RPG
