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Setting

This area is the very center of Wing City, in the midst of the Wing City Gardens.
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Wing City Town Square

This area is the very center of Wing City, in the midst of the Wing City Gardens.

Minimap

Wing City Town Square is a part of Wing City.

42 Characters Here

Alissa Bowen [32] Wing City First Responder
Sarah Locheart [31] Fire Chief of the Fire Department of Wing City
Loretti Basque [30] Mistborn were created when Rashek condensed the power of Preservation into the metal Larasium which he and a few of his closest friends and allies ingested, granting them Allomantic powers.
Cyril Partridge [27] A chaotic demon, actually kind of a jerk.
Delta Vargas [21] On a plane trip to the rabbit hole.
Ariel Moore [21] "Some people say I'm overprepared."
C. McLoughlan Jr. [19] A homicide detective for the Wing City Police Department.
Yah'akov Kohen [19] "Yes, I am blind. No, I am not an invalid."
The Enoch Echoes [19] A primarily Jewish rock band that's known for playing at bars and coffee shops, and their blind drummer.
Roxxy [19]

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Character Portrait: C. McLoughlan Jr. Character Portrait: Amelia Spiers
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#, as written by Guest
There was a knack to walking like you didn't care where you ended up. A stumble here or there, fingers wrapped in half-discintegrated woolen gloves reaching into one trash can, fishing after one particularly likely looking morsel. Discarded, though. Even Lia wasn't that hungry.

But then again, it wasn't hard to spot one of Them, either. Didn't matter what colour, what band on their arm, badge on their... badge... All the same underneath. Watchful eyes. Good quality shoes. Always the shoes. Mother had told her.

Cracked lips purse beneath the dirty fabric of the jacket, amusement. Momma had always been right. Well, until the point old Bobby had seen to it she wasn't right. Silly cow.

She makes her way, shuffling and stumbling, to the can beside the bench with the.. She casts a look out of the corner of her eye, before dismissing the notion. Like she cared.

"Looks like a man whose lookin'." She could have been talking to the trash for all that she moves, dark, dirty nails scratching through old cigarette ends and discarded coffee cups even as the words leave her mouth.

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Character Portrait: C. McLoughlan Jr. Character Portrait: Amelia Spiers
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#, as written by Prose
"I'm not the only one looking," stated McLoughlan. He had spotted the girl out of the corner of his eye. He wasn't going to pry into her business but she spoke and he replied. McLoughlan turned his head to study her closer. A prickle ran up the back of his neck. It made his left eyebrow arch quizzically.

"Do you like coffee?" asked McLoughlan. He held the insulated paper cup out to her. It was still warm but not hot.

"I haven't drank from it. I promise," he said to her. The coffee was really there just to keep him company.

The girl looked like a drug addict. There were too many to count in Wing City. All those intergalatic foreign visitors brought their space drugs to the city and ruined hundreds of thousands of lives. He could be wrong. She could have just been one of the homeless.

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Character Portrait: C. McLoughlan Jr. Character Portrait: Amelia Spiers
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#, as written by Guest
"Can mosey right along, if you're not." She replies, shoulders shrugging somewhere beneath countless layers of ill-fitting, hole-baring cloth. At the offer of coffee her head turns almost of its own accord, and she takes it from his hand with barely a word.

It takes a few long moments, the cup cradles to her face, eyes half-closed as she inhales the scent of warm brewed caffine. Eventually it would tilt, sending the dark liquid towards eager lips. Only when she'd had enough to warm her tongue, to feel the slither of heat down her throat and into the pit of her belly, does she appear to notice the stranger.

As though she would forget. But they would think that, wouldn't they?

"Doesn't buy you much, coffee." She tells him, dubiously. "Maybe buys you some though. Cha' lookin' for?" She glances around the paths, the strangers who hustle by. No time for one of her kind. No time for her. Suits her. She saw them and their sordid secrets. Everything had a price... everything.

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Character Portrait: C. McLoughlan Jr. Character Portrait: Amelia Spiers
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#, as written by Prose
McLoughlan was having a hard time deciphering what the girl was trying to say. Maybe his first judgment of her being an addict was more correct than he wanted to believe. He turned on the bench to face her for forwardly.

"That depends on what you have on you," McLoughlan said. "What can you offer right here and now?" He crossed his arms across his chest. There was a mustard stain on his red tie and his white shirt was wrinkled from McLoughlan rolling the sleeves up to his elbows.

The detective assumed that she'd rummage through her pockets and pull out morphine, heroine, or meth out from beneath some layers of her rags. If she did he was going to arrest her. It was simple as that. He was a cop. It was his job.

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Character Portrait: C. McLoughlan Jr. Character Portrait: Amelia Spiers
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#, as written by Guest
She looks at him, her expression covered more with cynisim and disbelief than it was the dirt that caked her flesh.

"Bastard Cop Shop. Give something for nothing. Nothing free!" She spits to one side, careful to avoid his shoes but only slightly. She was, after all, irritated, not insane.

"What does you know, eh? Spill it like that? Not how it works, sweetcake." She looks at him them, up and down as though he has just crawled from the most dense, foul sewer beneath the City. "He tells her what he needs to know. She tells him what she knows. Or finds it." She sniffed, raising her free hand to wipe harshly at her nose as she does so. "Findin's extra."

She turns her attention back to the coffee, at least, she appears to. She's met all sorts. Shiney badges, shiney shoes... shiney even as they swung towards her face. Not fast enough. Or too fast. Saw too much. Everyone has a price, she knows that. Not stupid. Never stupid.

"So. Sat out here. On his own. Good the look. So what is it?"

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Character Portrait: C. McLoughlan Jr. Character Portrait: Amelia Spiers
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#, as written by Prose
"Ah, an information trader," McLoughlan said. He rubbed his jaw and his dark eyes narrowed at the girl. The prickle at the back of his neck wasn't going away. McLoughlan looked up toward the sky with an inquiry in his stare. There came no answer. The Man Upstairs was as quiet as he always had been. The detective sighed through his nostrils.

"What is your name?" asked McLoughlan. He doubted that she would answer or even answer with her true name. Information traders were not keen on giving out their identities. For all he knew her entire appearance was just a front to keep herself safe. McLoughlan tipped up the brim of his fedora.

The damn thing was cliche but it looked good on McLoughlan.

"I'm detective McLoughlan," he offered.

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Character Portrait: C. McLoughlan Jr. Character Portrait: Amelia Spiers
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#, as written by Guest
At his question, Lia looks down at the dark coffee, feeling the vapours still rising to meet her nose as she cradles it close to her face. It was small payment, sure, but then it was a small thing he asked.

"Lia." She tells him, a simple enough answer and true enough to be worth the few notes he'd spent on the damnable caffine he'd so readily given up for her. She tilts the cup towards him in a simple, quiet gesture. "It's paid, that." She sniffs again, and rubs more aggressivly at the nose that appeared to be intent upon ruining the first hot beverage that she'd had in... how long? Too long.

Mind's wandering. Back to it. Stay sharp, that's what momma said. May the stupid cow rest in some piece. Maybe pieces. He had been angry, had old Bobby.

Focus!

"McLoughlan" she echoes, her lips twisting around the word before she wrinkles her nose at it. "Mouthful. Chuckles." She grins to herself at that. He did appear to be a man in sore need of amusement. Clever, Lia, she congratulates herself. Clever.

"Didn't come here for a name though. I knows that."

She sniffed again, glancing towards the others side. "Ahn Whoospie Ladies're that way. So. Cha want, Chuckles?"

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Character Portrait: C. McLoughlan Jr. Character Portrait: Amelia Spiers
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#, as written by Prose
McLoughlan placed his hands on his knees and stood up. There was no creak in his bones or soreness in his muscles. And yet, McLoughlan still felt his age. He bit back a groan of exhaustion.

"I don't want anything from you, Lia. You have a nice name. Do you need money for food?" McLoughlan asked. When he turned to her a strange event occurred. The white clouds parted in the sky and it almost seemed like a ray of light was illuminating McLoughlan. He radiated warmth and comfort.

A light glimmered above his head and then it was gone. The event lasted a single second.

McLoughlan seemed to not notice as he took out his bill fold from his back pocket. He rifled through a few bills and debated on which to give to Lia.

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Character Portrait: C. McLoughlan Jr. Character Portrait: Amelia Spiers
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#, as written by Guest
At his assertion that he didn't want anything from her, Lia's expression moved from cynical to outright suspicious. Lips, previously warmed to a rosy pink by the coffee, become a tight, compressed line.

"Don't owe none of you nothing." She snaps back, slamming back the remainder of the bitter liquid in one shot, casting the cup into the garbage, and ramming her hands deeply in the pocket of the black-turned-brown-turned-grey-turned...what-the-hell-*is*-that? coat that did it's best to protect her from the elements.

She sees, but does not comprehend the lightplay that falls forth from the clouds, and illumination or not, she's known enough coppers that will drop you in all the trouble in the world if they own you.

Something for free. Thats the start of it. Tricksey.

"Don't want your money for nothin'."

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Character Portrait: C. McLoughlan Jr. Character Portrait: Amelia Spiers
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#, as written by Prose
"Very well then," McLoughlan said to Lia. "If you don't want my money then I won't give any to you. Not for free at least. Do you clean? Cook?" There was a high possibility that Lia didn't know how to do either. She didn't seem like the type. The question was worth asking anyway. McLoughlan was understanding of Lia and her need to earn her pay. He was the same way. Morals held up fast in some individuals no matter what state they were in.

Some even died for their morals. McLoughlan knew that story all too well himself.

"I may have a job for you if you do," McLoughlan said as he put his wallet back into his pocket. The job was cleaning his apartment, which he rarely ever stayed in, and shoving a few cooked meals into his fridge for when he was there. Not many people would have offered such a personal job but McLoughlan was a sucker for females in distress.

And this one was obviously in distress.

"Take the job or leave it. It's up to you, Lia," said McLoughlan and he attempted to look her dead in the eye.

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Character Portrait: C. McLoughlan Jr. Character Portrait: Amelia Spiers
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#, as written by Guest
It takes a good fifteen seconds for her to wrap her head around the offer that Chuckles seems to be making, and she blinks at him with a mixture of surprise and disbelief as the scorn vanishes from her features.

"Offerin' work? For you?" She looks down at herself. At the layers of frayed and battered clothing that do their best to protect her from the worst elements of Wing City's weather. Yeah, and it's populous too. She's no fool, either. She knows that beneath are enough marks and tracks to make her nature clear, even to one as intent on...

What was he intent on?

"You stupid?" the question bursts from her lips despite herself, and qualifiers seem keen to follow after; "Can't trust no one at the best of times, an' here you want to go offerin' some random street-bitch access to all thats yours?" She shakes her head in disbelief. She wasn't stupid, but she was rapidly coming to the conclusion that this man was, or so well intentioned that he was going to walk headfirst into the worst of trouble.

Momma's voice echoes from the very back of her skull, crawling through years of substance abuse, through smoke and powder and alcohol to reach her ears. "Good people. Them's rare. An' you as best as you can by 'em, or there'll be none soon 'nuff."

She blinks the memory back and shakes her head again at the policeman. "Can take you to th' dolly shop. Gives folks for work like it. Safer. Can't be askin' just anyone, could do anythin... didn't your momma teach you nothin?"

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Character Portrait: C. McLoughlan Jr. Character Portrait: Amelia Spiers
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#, as written by Prose
McLoughlan shook his head. She was stuck fast and going nowhere soon. The prickling at the back of his neck stopped. The man let out a great sigh as if accepting some unknown defeat. He slipped his hand into his shirt pocket and produced a crumpled box of cigarettes.

"I don't want a dolly. I wanted to employ you, Lia, but seeing as you're not interested in having access to snooping around a cops place, I guess I will go have to find another street crawler to employ," McLoughlan said as he pinched the cigarette between his lips and lit it.

"Trust and kindness is rare in these parts," said McLoughlan to Lia. "You pass up the only opportunity and you'll never see it again." He took a long drag from the cigarette and let the smoke out real slow from his nostrils.

"When you're dying on the street from hunger or overdose, you're gonna come back to this moment and wonder why you didn't accept my offer. I hope that doesn't happen but it will." The man tucked his hands into his pant pockets.

"I'll keep you in my prayers," McLoughlan said before he began to walk away from Lia.

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Character Portrait: C. McLoughlan Jr. Character Portrait: Amelia Spiers Character Portrait: Arneth "Father" Jarrend
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#, as written by Akiyo
"You must do this. It is for the Crimson Family." He remembered the Crimson Sergeant telling him. Now the New Blood stood at the Wing City Center, his body rigged with explosives installed into his chest and clothes. He was covered in sweat as he walked his final steps. The detonator bounced slightly in his shaking hand. He walked out into the middle of the street, cars slammed on their breaks and horns yelled at him. They might as well have been miles away because he could only hear his heart beat.

"For the Crimson Family." He said as he closed his eyes and activated the detonator.

Nothing happened. He opened his eyes and when he looked at the detonator a voice clicked into his radio, "good work son, you are ready to face death. Leave that place and meet us at the location you went to this morning."

The New Blood left the street and and disappeared into the crowd.

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Character Portrait: C. McLoughlan Jr. Character Portrait: Amelia Spiers
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#, as written by Guest
"Hey, Now. Ain't sayin' nothin' like that. Just trying to save you from your own stupid head."

Her head twitches slightly at the cacophony of horns and angry shouts that explodes to her left, before looking back to Chuckles, her feet already moving to bring her into step beside him rather than allowing him to simply walk away.

There was very little to say, her mind stuttered over the idea of honest work for long, quiet moments, before she glances at him out of the corner of her eye. "How comes you don't want a real maid anyways? Safer, yanno." Thin shoulders rise and fall as she speaks. "Just anyone off the street. Wait until you're gone, take everythin'. Gone into nothing..." fingers half-covered by moth eaten gloves expand outwards in emphisis. "Poof."

A bitter wind sweeps in from one side, and she grunts, wrapping her battered coat more firmly around herself as she walks with the policeman. Hah. Her. Policeman. Didn't see that one comin', huh Momma? It isnt that the offer doesn't sound too good to be true. It does. Nor that the man offering it to her seems too... well.. nice to be picking up girls to work for him... That thought makes her shove her hands back into her pockets. She wouldn't be after THAT if it was his intention. No sir. Call her many things, but she wasn't one of them fancy dollies. You had to draw the line somewhere, right?

She looks up to the looming figure, and simply prompts "Hn?" as though she were impatient for his response, rather than sidetracked by her own thoughts.

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Character Portrait: C. McLoughlan Jr. Character Portrait: Amelia Spiers
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#, as written by Prose
Cameron. Caleb. Carson. Crake.

Chaz. Chaz McLoughlan Jr. That would work. The man couldn’t remember his real name so he had to supplement on a whim. Didn’t he introduce himself as Casey once? McLoughlan cound’t remember. And he wasn’t about to remember anytime soon seeing as he had a follower.

Not a single word was spoken when McLoughlan saw Lia fall into step with him. He puffed on his coffin nail—Chaz’s eyes mentall y rolled—and watched the urchin woman from the corner of his eyes. When McLoughlan was prompted to speak he stopped on the sidewalk and looked down at the shorter woman.

“I ain’t like normal people,” McLoughlan said to Lia. “I get gut feelings about certain individuals and I tend to follow them. You could call me a man of instinct and I have good instincts with you. Now, you could come and work for me and then steal all the nothing that I own. That’s well and fine. Lesson learned on my end, Lia.”

McLoughlan paused to puff more pollution around his head.

“Or you could come and earn a few bucks to buy you some new rags. It’s about to be winter and it’s going to be a cold one this year. The choice is all yours. It don’t make no difference to me, Lia.” His eyes narrowed in thought before he made one more suggestion to the woman.

“Try it for a day. Don’t like it then you can leave with a day’s pay and no need for explantions.”

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Character Portrait: C. McLoughlan Jr. Character Portrait: Amelia Spiers
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#, as written by Guest
He was offering her an out. Lia glanced quickly to the man beside her, surprised enough that it involves turning her head entirely rather than the subtle glances she generally preferred. Better if they didn't see how hungry you were, how desperate, how willing... Them as what know your wants, knows your weakness. That's what Momma said.

"I'll give it a go, Chuckles." She says at last. "But if I walk, won't be no one can find me." It was unclear, even within Lia's own mind exactly who the statement was meant to reassure, but it seems to shore up her own mental defences enough that she comes to a sudden halt, and pulls her right hand from the pocket, offering it to the policeman who'd, apparently, engaged her services, grimy fingers, vaguely-sticky gloves and all. "See what's about it, hn?"

She watches his face, now, attempting to keep her expression relaxed, but her eyes held far more intensity, and far less wandering drug-haze, than she'd like to admit. You could tell a lot from a man's face, Momma had taught her that too. 'Course, Momma had gotten herself dead by a man, so maybe she wasn't the best to listen to. Stupid cow.

"When do we start, Mr?"

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Character Portrait: Kyle Macintosh
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Kyle sat out in the middle of the town square on a chair with a table in front of him. The table had a white cloth on it. It also had several bullet shells and casings on it. But most of all it had a sign that said 'Free Bullets: Just Ask' on it. Of course, the trick being that if you asked for free bullets, Kyle was going to shoot you. And then probably leg it before anyone caught him. That was the plan anyway. But it seemed like nobody wanted free bullets. Maybe because the man behind the desk had enough piercings to scare off the friendliest of people, and had his boots up on the table and arms behind his head like he had no interest in actually being there.

What had started as a fun idea turned into a boring day of doing nothing. But that was the problem with days when there were no jobs on. Kyle just had nothing better to do.

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Character Portrait: Kyle Macintosh Character Portrait: Lyna Trinity Mist
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Lyna found herself boredly walking through the square listening to music on her mp3 player with her electric blue headphones in her ears. She had a drawing satchel across her shoulder with a fox on it. The bag was custom made leather with the head carved into the tan leather. She looked about the square wondering what exactly would catch her interest to draw or write about. She saw multiples people a few seemed to uneasily eye a man with multiple piercings. She had to smirk to herself on the offer of "free bullets." She didn't need any free bullets, she had plenty of her own arsenal back at home.

She casually turned her attention and started walking towards the man. Her midnight blue bangs swept across her face with a soft breeze, then settled back framing her face pale ivory face. She wore silver hoop earrings and a smoky brown gold eyeshadow and light pink lipstick. A pair of flare leg blue jeans hugged her hips and thighs while her white hoodie with a black and white kitten had the word "feisty" on it in pink. She had her hands in her single hoodie pocket on her stomach as she approached. Her small lensed sunglasses were wire frame red with black tinted lenses. Her hair was tied back in a high ponytail, all except her bangs anyway.

"Odd thing to offer, don't you think? And by the looks of it, such a scary guy as you would cause for much hesitation...no?" She said softly to him in a musical tone of voice, then offered a slight smirk as she lowered her sunglasses to the tip of her nose to reveal her hazel green eyes that stared back at him sweetly.

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Character Portrait: Kyle Macintosh Character Portrait: Lyna Trinity Mist
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Dark eyes snapped to attention from the man who looked like he was about to fall asleep from boredom, flicking precisely to stare at Lyna. "Huh? Eh..." He gave a sheepish shrug and little more than grunts for answers at first, before he yawned with a wide mouth and finally answered; "Just trying to give the people what they want. Or, at least, what they don't know they want." He wasn't very subtle, making a 'gun' gesture with one hand and cocking the thumb to fire. "Pow." She dressed kinda, funny, but he couldn't blame her. Hell, it made her stand out alright.

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Character Portrait: Kyle Macintosh Character Portrait: Lyna Trinity Mist
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She pushed the sunglasses up on her head forcing her bangs to go back a bit. She studied him briefly and smirked as he made the shooting gesture. A glimpse of cold sinful pleasure danced briefly in her face. She couldn't quite get over how many tattoos he had decorating him.

"You are truly a piece of art in yourself. Lyna..." She said softly as she let her face return to a calm but sweet demeanor as she offered her hand to the man to shake, a single spent cartridge cupped in the palm of her hand.

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Character Portrait: Kyle Macintosh Character Portrait: Lyna Trinity Mist
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"Actually, I've got a metal skeleton in myself," he answered, finally lowering his boots from the table to the ground with a thump each as a hand extended to shake hers roughly, fingers curling around the shell. What, was he meant to take this? "Hey, if this is some sort of subtle flirting, you're gonna have to be more direct," he said while eyeing her up, "Unless this is the shell you want me to punk some sucker with." Shell, cartridge, bullet, these things didn't matter to him. He knew how to shoot and how to kill. Once you had that down the specific names didn't matter.

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Character Portrait: Kyle Macintosh Character Portrait: Lyna Trinity Mist
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"oh my," she stated melodramatically. "Why would I want something like that?" Her face turned into a devious smirk. "As for flirting, the only flirting I typically do is with a man I am about to take to their grave." Her eyes turned cold. "My only offer was to offer casual conversation over a drink as...hmmm...how would you put our type?" She said playing placing a finger next to her lips thoughtfully. "Comrades with a love for guns and...well...fun." She answered, a certain note of playful banter in her voice on her last word. She offered him a wink then lowered her shades. "Shall we entertain ourselves and make this day more entertaining or not?" She asked, pulling out her black USP 9 MM from her satchel and slamming in a magazine. "Either fun or some target practice would be fun." She tosses him a small bottle of Jack Daniels Whiskey. "That is a start if you'll take me up on my offer for a drink as comrades of the gun."

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Character Portrait: Kyle Macintosh Character Portrait: Lyna Trinity Mist
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Kyle slumped in his chair, almost sulking like a teenager as one hand raised to catch the bottle. On his palm was a small glass node of some sort. "Naw,"[/black] he said, [color=black]"My boss said if I go on another killing spree I'm not allowed to use heavy equipment anymore." He seemed really bummed out about it, now putting his boots back up on the table and twisting the cap off the Jack to poor it for his throat. "Who do you work for, huh? Gotta be someone big if you're packing heat without being scared of a fight."

He figured she must be with some sort of merc group or something. Hell, he looked more like a mercenary than an assassin, but looks were always deceiving.

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Character Portrait: Kyle Macintosh Character Portrait: Lyna Trinity Mist
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She smirked and giggled. "Everyone carries some heat silly. If not in the world we live in today you will be the one dead. I prefer to be the killer than the killed personally." She said her voice and expression becoming pretty serious for a moment before going back to being soft and sweet. "I wasn't figuring on that much fun. Come on first dates never reveal too much." Her last comment was said with a note of playful teasing. "I don't work for anyone, I am freelance. Haven't found a group to take me in. Most of them say that it is no place for a little girl." Her expression turns into a mocking notation of their commentary. "Hell, i could probably out gun them most times." She muttered more to herself.

She looked to him. People weren't really her forte to draw. She loved to design weaponry and armory as well as random other things. She popped her neck and leaned back. "So if no shopping sprees, then why the stand. Wouldn't your boss get agitated if you did have a moron ask?" She asked softly.

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Character Portrait: Kyle Macintosh Character Portrait: Lyna Trinity Mist
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He let one finger move back down to his face so he could idly scratch at his nose. "Uhh, well, if I killed them and bailed fast enough... Shit. Okay, you got me there." He let his boots drop to the ground again, now eyeing her up. "Hey, little girls have a place in the Assassin Society, if you want it. We're always hiring up and coming talent," but his jaw tugged upwards in a smirk, "But I'm yet to meet anyone that can out gun me." His head rocked back in a laugh as he rose to his feet and folded his arms in front of his chest confidently.