Smug Slug
@[member="Chloe Blake"] @[member="Jorus Merrill"]
A day following the attack by the One Sith, Tycho Shorn found himself stun-cuffed to a chair in an empty room. Vibrant blue eyes glanced around the room. Durasteel walls, durasteel floor, two durasteel chairs, one durasteel table, transparasteel viewing-wall. Boring, boring, boring. He clenched and unclenched his right fist restlessly.
The headache he had had since waking up persisted. Probably some side-effect of the riot gun he'd been shot with. He wondered if he had killed his shooter. Fierfek, his head felt like an alchemist's anvil. Pound, pound, pound. The ringing wouldn't stop. He gritted his teeth, muscles tensing. He really wished they would just get in here in and get it over with. They would probably torture him, then kill him. Omega Protectorate didn't respond well to saboteurs, but he supposed he would see soon enough.
A day following the attack by the One Sith, Tycho Shorn found himself stun-cuffed to a chair in an empty room. Vibrant blue eyes glanced around the room. Durasteel walls, durasteel floor, two durasteel chairs, one durasteel table, transparasteel viewing-wall. Boring, boring, boring. He clenched and unclenched his right fist restlessly.
The headache he had had since waking up persisted. Probably some side-effect of the riot gun he'd been shot with. He wondered if he had killed his shooter. Fierfek, his head felt like an alchemist's anvil. Pound, pound, pound. The ringing wouldn't stop. He gritted his teeth, muscles tensing. He really wished they would just get in here in and get it over with. They would probably torture him, then kill him. Omega Protectorate didn't respond well to saboteurs, but he supposed he would see soon enough.
