I'M GONNA FIGHT EM OFF! (Open Bar Fight)

[Voices of The Deep]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hwi54opgZ50​

​

OOC THREAD​

The world is nothing but chaos. Madness gives in to hate and despair daily. True kindness is nothing but a cover story for weakness, and the weak had no worth in the harsh cruel world. Than again if only the strong survived, what about the weaker ones of the survivors? What of the cowards who fled from a fight only to save their hides? The shameful and the foolish? Mortals where mortals after all, the proud where careless, and the cowards were morons who thought running from a problem would keep them from ever having to face them.

They never faced her...And in the end she could not entirely blame them, when met with a force greater than ones own the only logical conclusion was to retreat back into ones own shell. Telling themselves lies, fantasies of being something more than what they were. But here...in this place, with these things a man could be whatever they wanted.

Heavy noise that sounded like the beating of wicker drums, cheering screams, smoky air laden with the metallic aroma of fresh booze, it was just...loud. And the red haired woman could barely suffer it as she ran her fingers through her hair and growled lowly to herself. This was wrong...something about this did not feel right...the simple fact she wasn't doing anything was killing her. Waiting for work was...terribly mundane and Shay did not take kindly to idly standing by as her glory slipped ever further from her reach.

And so bright golden eyes stared ahead emptily as she sat at the bar of a space station...a massive bottle in hand as she tapped her fingers irritably along the table as a couple of men chatted one another up obnoxiously in her personal space. Fury intensifying in her heart as the blood in her veins came to a boil, clenching her jaw and clenching her fist as a debilitating sensation of wrath began to swim within her mind. She was the Mother of her people, a Goddess of War and Wrath...and yet here she was.

Surrounded by filth.

She wanted, more than anything...to burn it all away.

And all it took was a spark.

[member="The Slave"] | [member="Llkt'tudrin'wyshd"] | [member="Delilah Keyes"] | [member="Darth Abyss"] | [member="Nathaniel Trumont"] | [member="Marcus Itera"]​

​

 

[Fedrig]

Fedrig was sitting at the bar, quite intoxicated at this point. His favourite type of being drunk. Not so bad that he would struggle to remember when sober but enough drunk to feel the joys of the alcohol. Looking around, he could see the brooding woman, red haired and more importantly her eyes. There was an intense stare that was filled with hatred only dark Force User could feel. Even drunk, Fedrig knew to keep his hand close to his pistol which was holstered on his leg.

He carried on drinking, attempting to keep a cool face and not give away that he knew the danger that she could bring. However, his gaze would return to her often and quite openly. His subtly was greatly hindered by the poison in his veins. Not that the man was very subtle sober, he preferred a guns blazing anarchy style over the silent long winded approach that stealth involved.

[member="Cinder Rose"]

 

[Switch]

A heavy, armored boot tapped anxiously against the bar, an absentminded expression of frustration from the woman attached to it. Switch was already three gins deep, the buzz she craved still managing to elude her grasp. She had taken a shot of something strange on the shuttle ride over, and whatever it was racing through her veins seemed to be neutralizing the Hutt's share of the alcohol in her belly. Instead of that familiar, tipsy joy, all the former pirate wanted to do was give in to that feral high tickling her senses.

She wanted to scream at the top of her lungs. She wanted to thrash and fight and break a man's teeth. She wanted to steal a speeder and rob a bank. She wanted to find a warm body or two to work up a sweat. She wanted to destroy the space station and everyone on it. It was a feat of herculean extremes that she was holding it all in, her self control being negligible at the best of times.

Some nobody to her left kept bumping into her, his weight and smell repeatedly throwing her off balance as she tightly gripped the half-empty glass in her shaking fist. Her shoulders rising and falling with her heightened breaths, she hastily threw back the rest of her drink. Closing her goggled eyes tight, she slammed her glass back down onto the bartop, feeling it crack in her hand but not quite shatter. She looked to her side, gritting her teeth with the unspoken promise of reprisal.

...Just one more time and I swear...

[member="Fedrig"] | [member="Cinder Rose"]

 

[Zaiden Dean]

Vokun silently contemplated the bottle on his table from his position in the corner. He had already witnessed the future, a brief glimpse of what was to come. A hasty battle that would potentially destroy the pub they were in. Why then was he here? Because, why not? This was a man revered by several billion beings as a god, a man that had done so much in less than a century. More than most ancients were able to accomplish.

Glancing around the area, Vokun wondered if Koda would arrive before combat ensued. If she did, would she insist they step in to stop it? His position in this universe now, was to maintain balance. It was his code. To protect the light from the dark, but too also sanction the shadows from destruction. One could not be without the other, it was an impossibility.

"Sir, would you like something more?" the attending host said, having made his way back to Vokun. The man was obviously confused why the buyer of one if his pricier bottles was not actively drinking, as had been expected.

"Yes, please bring another glass, two stones, a twist... Actually, here replace this with another of the same." Vokun replied, tossing back his glass to the attendee. Once more he brought his gaze too the bottle. This was the first time his body was not adapted to consume unholy amounts of liquor too no effect. Hence his longing look - he wanted to drink, but not just general Gin as he held. There was an urge to make the best he could, a true taste, a hearty drink that would intoxicate him but not wreck him.

[member="Koda Berus"] (you don't have to show up for this one if you don't wanna)

 

[Formorta]

Bars were not a place she always hanged out preferring rough and noisy cantinas in, but even she needed a little down time between contracts, so on this particular day she decided to indulge herself in a drink or two, but no more as getting drunk was a no go for her after what happened last time. From her comer she inspected the other patrons of the bar, the first being a man who was noticeably intoxicated, but from the way me moved still sober enough to think straight, hopefully. Next was a woman who seemed to be on edge about something, perhaps she was stressed out but what ever had her blood running seemed to be keeping her sober, though they could just be an experienced drinker.

She finished her first drink but didn't pick up her second as she attention was drawn to another man, @Vokun. He held an air of authority and judging by the attended offering to get another drink he was important in some way, keeping an eye on him would be a wise choice. Though the real focus of her gaze came to a red haired woman, [member="Cinder Rose"], just looking in the general direction of were she was siting made her feel unease, something about her felt natural, though she wasn't one to talk.

Picking up the second drink on the table she slowly sipped it, un-holstering one of her blaster in an off hand, but keeping it hidden she scanned the bar of its patrons once more. Her years as an assassin had made her able to spot trouble form a mile away, and trouble was closing in fast, it wajust a matter of time.

[member="Switch"]
[member="Fedrig"]

 

[Lancer Damar]

The one time he chose to relax, he couldn't.

Because of the music. Because of the overpriced drinks. Because he wanted to grab [member="Switch"], whom he saw from across the bar, and do naughty things with. Because the window-breaker in his pocket wasn't enough for personal protection (hence why he brought a slugthrower, but he would prefer not to use it). He tapped his fingers on the bar. He was getting anxious. He wanted to kark. He wanted to fight. Sometimes, as well trained, as well heeled and sound of mind that he was, he just wanted to break things.

Lancer Damar, a professional assassin, spy, and operator, wanted a fight. A no-holds barred fight. He bounced his leg absent-mindedly as he hankered for a brawl. He grit his teeth, and continued to stare at the woman across the bar. She slammed it down onto the bar. Maybe she was as frustrated as he was. Maybe he could play that out to his advantage. Maybe he could bumb uglies with her later.

Maybe he could knock her teeth in.

Dependant on how the next hour or so went, really.

 

[Darth Empyrean]

As the various patrons within the nightclub moved from corner to corner, or sat menacingly in their corner; The Slave meandered about with his usual stoic charm. One of a drug laden misfit, but one that at least had enough charisma to keep the party somewhat alive where it threatened to break into something else. For today, despite the number of Zeltros pheromones in the air, something else hung tight to everyone’s skin; threatened to shred it and drip to the floor in pools of bloody anger.

He didn’t notice however, and as he made his way under the zero gravity projectors making the dance floor above them possible, he found a singular massive sight that drew his interest like a bug to zapper. A tall, voraciously curved woman with flowing red hair and a heat he couldn’t mind getting used to. His usual thin curved smile came about as the drink in his hand found its way to his lips.

If it weren’t for the fact he was heavily inebriated from a number of drugs and intoxicants, he might have remembered how often his approach failed like this. How often he took an elbow to the stomach, or somewhere worse. Still, with the thought of [member="Vaylin"] far behind him, he approached this [member="Cinder Rose"] with a faint attentive glare; one that held within in all the virtues of the night, and everything he wanted to do.

Before she had time to react, he’d scoot past her side, resting the drink on the counter and his hand on her rear. He spoke quickly, the well crafted response of a coquettish man who was on the darker side of a poorly placed drink.

“A woman like you could make my night, and a man like me could surely make yours.”

Over the monstrous rumblings of the music around them, he grinned wildly as his corrupted golden gaze watched over her;

“Wanna have a go?”

│ [member="Ghorua the Shark"] │ [member="Marcus Itera"] │

 

[Ghorua the Shark]

". . . a seven nation army couldn't hold me back."​

​

LOCATION: THE TECHNICOLOR BEAT, BAR​

CURRENT EQUIPMENT: PACKING LIGHT​

CURRENT MOOD: SOLEMN​

​

Ghorua wasn't feeling the anger, lust, or giddiness that tinted the lenses of however many others. But he could smell it in the air.

The scent of adrenaline mixed heavily with the more noticeable smells of pheromones, sweat, and alcohol. The miasma of scents washed around Ghorua, and he let it pass, unaffected by the heightening atmosphere. He wasn't here to have fun drinking, or bashing some drunkard's face in. He just wanted to forget himself for a while.

Ghorua plodded up to the bar, perusing the place's selection of fine wines. The giant Herglic was quite the sight: a ten-foot-tall being, muscled beyond compare, with serrated teeth in an endless maw of a mouth. He wore a simple black wifebeater and grey cargo shorts, and only a vibroknife in his boot as a weapon. He hunched down to get a good look at fruit cocktails, his eyes, dark and brooding, surveying the options. Finally, the Herglic pointed out something that looked nice.

People gave him a wide berth as he ordered his drink. One was so surprised by the sudden arrival of the Shark that he backed straight into a certain angry slicer, [member="Switch"]. Sure, some of them may have been angry, but not angry enough to fight the Shark. Not yet, anyways.

His life had become complicated, confusing, and he needed time to sort through it all. With the betrayals, and the rescues, and the deaths, and the returns...

He felt trapped in a maze of events, and didn't know how to escape.

A drink might help.

Ghorua took a large glass of what seemed to be fluorescent pink alcohol into a massive black hand, taking a sip, and trying not to think.

- [member="The Slave"] - [member="Lancer Damar "]- [member="Formorta"] - [member="Vokun"] - [member="Fedrig"] - [member="Cinder Rose"] -

 

[Llkt'tudrin'wyshd]

With his massive form hunched over a table to small for him, the Qu'un was more than a little uncomfortable as he sat at a table sequestered away from the majority of people. A heavy cloak hung over his form, hiding all but his face and the arm that reached out from the bulky fabric to grasp a too-small glass in talon-tipped fingers - filled with water instead of alchohol as his harsh upbringing had taught him. The heavy, thudding beat of what was passing for music mixing with the loud shouts of patrons was doing little to help the headache that was beginning to build behind fierce blue eyes. The only upside he could see to being crammed in such a crowded space filled with beings that were more than happy to throw their lives away was that the heat of so many bodies crushed together was a pleasant sensation upon his skin. Well, that, and getting to watch his friend and ally, Uul Dyi, enjoy herself.

The foul-mouthed Epicanthix was sat two tables over from him, stirring up a crowd of drunk watchers as she traded barbs and innuendo with the woman opposite to her as they both seemed to be trapped in what was surely a high stakes game of cards - although Drin was more than sure that, knowing Uul, it wasn't money that she was gambling but something that would lead to some sort of embarrassment for the losing party. Indeed, watching Uul unwind and shout and jeer while downing glasses of whatever foul concoction that he would be helping her recover from later on was the only reason that Drin had yet to choose to take his leave. Especially as his feathers had been flaring and settling in a cyclical structure for a while now as the tension in the room grew and grew.

So many beings were wound up, ready to lunge forwards at the slightest provocation. And as drink continued to flow, he could easily see inhibitions becoming more and more loose and knew that, soon, the spark required to ignite the situation, elevating it into a full on brawl, would soon occur. Whether it would be a patron being bothered by another too much, a spilled drink or an accidental elbow being driven into someone's side he did not know, but, it would be soon, of that he was sure.

Sighing heavily, the Qu'un brushed aside his drink, leaving the glass half full, as he pushed his chair back slightly and angled himself to face Uul. The arm that had been pushed past the heavy cloak he wore disappeared back within the fabric as he wrapped his hands around the swords that hung at his waist. At the same time his tail, which had been coiled around the leg of the chair he was sat upon, unwound itself before wrapping around the top of the back of the chair. Muscles tense and eyes darting as the tension seemed to reach a peak, low trills of anticipation echoing from the depths of his throat, Llkt'tudrin'wyshd prepared to act, to throw himself towards Uul, at the first signs of violence.

He might have been tired of fighting, having fought to survive all his life, and preferred situations where conflict could be avoided, but that did not mean that he could not fight, nor did it mean that Uul, especially and intoxicated Uul, would listen to him and leave a bar fight.

 

[Marcus Itera]

He'd no idea why the typical bars were nothing but melancholy and pensive moods.

But this was no typical bar. It wasn't exactly the most quiet establishment he'd seen but the tension that hung thickly in the air almost manifested physically. Marcus saw the growing tautness of jaws, glossed over eyes narrowing at neighbors, and those that were even more outspoken in their displeasure and disgust of what was happening around them. It was as if some intoxicating, corrupting spell had beset the poor patrons of such a fine place.

"Protect your neck," Miranda chirped lowly. "I'd rather not die with you."

The mercenary set his empty shot glass back on the counter and reached out to his left, hoping to plant a hand on [member="The Slave"]'s shoulder.

"S'okay, I'm just trying to keep this foo-" His hand just swept through air, "Safe."

Mechanical eyes jolted open, pulling an escalated air of attentiveness out of his inebriated body. They wavered about the room until they came to rest on that silver-haired monstrosity he called a client. The man sat several yards away with a woman, not surprisingly, occupying every fiber of his being - hands included.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "He just grabbed her butt."

"What?"

"I said he just groped her, woman. Do you need an example?" Agitation laced his words.

"Oh, sure."

[member="Cinder Rose"], [member="Fedrig"], [member="Switch"], [member="Vokun"], [member="Formorta"], @Lancer Damar, [member="Ghorua the Shark"], [member="Llkt'tudrin'wyshd"]

 

[Zaiden Dean]

Vokun continued to examine his bottle until the glasses arrived. Whether his apprentice showed, or not, he began drinking. The twist, in this case a lime, made his gin interesting and tart, while the ice made it a bit headier. First one small glass, then another. Pausing to let this be digested, the GodKing of Val'hala brought cobalt hues around the room.


"Well. Not how I initially saw it happening." Vokun muttered. Firstly, there were beings hear that heavily outsized the rest. A few giants, one reptilian appearance, the other a shark like being - he was sure he knew the species but lets be honest, this was his first time aiming to be drunk in a dozen years, and it was working. Not too mention the... What was that redhead? The Force radiated around her in an odd way, not saying she was a danger though he knew she was. But that she was... New? He had never interacted with her kind.


Though he was not of the Miraluka blood he had been before his death, his eyes, even these superior specimens, still saw mostly in the Force. From her the aura was... Intense. Suddenly a new aura bumped hers, and Vokun froze. What was that touching that aura... It belonged to a young man... Was that... No, it couldn't be.


He shook his head. Velok had destroyed it.


Casting his eyes next to a being that was attempting to reign in the onslaught of ass grabbing, Vokun smiled inwardly. He used to be the one others attempted to reign in. It was nice to not be the target for control any longer.


In the blink of an eye, Vokun assessed the likely to occur battle: strength would be hefted like that shark creatures legs when it ran. Hard and heavy. Even he, who appeared lithe, held intense strength and speed, thanks to his Sanguinius body. The giant beings would hit hardest though, probably much harder than he could. Scratch that, definitely harder. But he would be faster.


A chuckle escaped his lips. Nothing was occurring save a bit of tenseness spreading, yet here he was, planning his attacks for when it began.


[member="Cinder Rose"], [member="Fedrig"], [member="Switch"], [member="Formorta"], @Lancer Damar, [member="Ghorua the Shark"], [member="Llkt'tudrin'wyshd"], [member="Marcus Itera"]

 

[Voices of The Deep]

redacted​

 

[Darth Empyrean]

As the pseudo goddess moved to stand and accent her features with a twist of the hip, The Slave’s hand maneuvered to look up to her and maintain some grasp on the curves. In truth, there was the passive thought he was going to be hit; but it faded as she stood and returned his flirtatious grin with her own.

“Prykhodʹte, shchob poklonytysya istynniy bohyni?”, she spoke; to which he understand naught.

“I have no idea what you said, but I’m into it.”, he mused.

With a booming background, this personification of lust moved to beat with his fingers, idly dragging them across her skin before she pulled him deep into her bosom. It smelled sweet, oddly enough, and as he peered out from their all encompassing embrace he noticed the slightly concerned stares of his friend [member="Marcus Itera"] .

With a palisaded grin, and a subtle thumbs up; he attempted to reassure the poor man that he was in fact all right. Even more so, in reality, but despite his obvious enjoyment there was still the ever clinging violence that held tight in the air. A prevalent fog that sought to choke the weak and stifle the happy, one that hadn’t found its way in The Slave’s club in a long time, if ever.

In the distance, a yelling match had broken out between two men over a pazaak game; and its echoes fought to stay lively when faced with the overbearing music emboldening itself against the two. For the more acquainted, they’d see the well placed cameras turn to face the scuffle, but soon spread their gaze as it threatened to inspire an all out riot amongst the near 20,000 thousand guests that were in the 70 story structure.

│ [member="Cinder Rose"] │ @Vokun │ [member="Llkt'tudrin'wyshd"] │ [member="Ghorua the Shark"] │ [member="Lancer Damar "] │ @Formorta │ @Switch │ @Fedrig │

 

[Nathaniel Trumont]

Nathaniel was drunk. Not so drunk he'd be unable to do mcuh, but drunk enough to be extrordinalrily agitated. With everybody else at a smiliar point, things were not going to go well. He slammed down his drink and asked for another, and watched as a shotuing match broke out. the people in the booth behind were too loud, and if one person walked into him, he'd smash their face in.

When his drink never came he got up to fetch it. He passed a couple who were clearly gonna have alcahol feuled fun times. A shark was over in the corner, along with a slew of other indivuals. he gre continuously pissed, and eventually got his drink. om flourescent pink liquid filled the glass. The enourmous man had nearly got back to his table.

Then someone ran into him. A man, who he stood at least a foot taller than, walked into him. The poor soul hadn't only walked into Nathaniel, no, he had spilled the giant's drink. Nsthaniel looked down at him, staring down with rage. Nathaniel grabbed thepitiful man's shirt by the collar and lifted him, preparing to slam him into the table. The tabled broke in half when the guy was slammed down, but he didn't hit the floor. Nathaniel held on, and Threw the man towards the center of the room.


[member="The Slave"]
[member="Cinder Rose"]
[member="Vokun"]
[member="Marcus Itera"]
[member="Llkt'tudrin'wyshd"]
[member="Ghorua the Shark"]
@Lancer Damar
[member="Formorta"]
[member="Switch"]
[member="Fedrig"]

 

[Captain Marek]

*a man in black and red Mandolorian armor walks in with his helmet under his right arm. As he see's the fights taking place. He grins, and takes a stool at the bar and talks to the bartender.* "Get me a Tihaar, make it strong." *He then turns around to watch the fight.*

 

[Lancer Damar]

He made his way next to [member="Switch"], sitting down next to her. If a fight broke out, maybe he could somehow fight his way through the seventy or some odd levels and get out of here in relatively one piece. Maybe she'd help him. He didn't make a noise when he moved- a hallmark of his training and experience. But that was a moot point in a noisy bar. He didn't say anything for a while, before half turning his head to look at the woman.

"You look dangerous."

His eyes flickered to her hands. He looked back up, his pine-green eyes locking onto hers. He wanted to do a lot with her right now. He wanted to right a lot of wrongs in a single night with her. But also- an urge to punch her right in the throat, and everyone around him, rose up. Something was amiss.

And he loved it.

 

[HK-36]

The droid peeked in into the bar from the entrance, scanning over the room,

"Hey you guys having a bar fight in here?!"

The machine called out, asking whoever was listening in the establishment and could answer. Although the droid had no visible weapons on him, since apparently someone wanted this to be hand-to-hand combat only, he was clad in black organic looking armor, armor plates like chitin covering his already metal Phrik body. A bit of an overkill for anyone who would try to punch him, but for the droid it was what he understood as "fun".

 

[Formorta]

The tension in the air grew even more at the latest events, the card match argument, [member="Nathaniel Trumont"] shoving some poor sod though a table, and two guy attempting to flirt with the ladies, though [member="The Slave"] actually seemed to be making progress. Though most likely the last straw and the stupidest of the all was the HK series droid who very redundantly asked if a bar fight was about to take place.

It took all her will power to not simply shoot at [member="HK-36"] for being a complete dizt, did he want to die in a massive brawl of powerful patrons and other dangerous factors. Knowing that this would set off the chain of events leading to most of the people in this room being knocked out badly she decided to un-holster all of her weapons into each free hand while using her front two to rest her head, making it look like she was simply taking a nap, but was actually prepared to act at a moments notice when the fight broke out.

[member="Lancer Damar"]
[member="Captain Marek"]
[member="Cinder Rose"]
[member="Vokun"]
[member="Switch"]

 

[Strawgle]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hwi54opgZ50​

​

OOC THREAD​

The world is nothing but chaos. Madness gives in to hate and despair daily. True kindness is nothing but a cover story for weakness, and the weak had no worth in the harsh cruel world. Than again if only the strong survived, what about the weaker ones of the survivors? What of the cowards who fled from a fight only to save their hides? The shameful and the foolish? Mortals where mortals after all, the proud where careless, and the cowards were morons who thought running from a problem would keep them from ever having to face them.

They never faced her...And in the end she could not entirely blame them, when met with a force greater than ones own the only logical conclusion was to retreat back into ones own shell. Telling themselves lies, fantasies of being something more than what they were. But here...in this place, with these things a man could be whatever they wanted.

Heavy noise that sounded like the beating of wicker drums, cheering screams, smoky air laden with the metallic aroma of fresh booze, it was just...loud. And the red haired woman could barely suffer it as she ran her fingers through her hair and growled lowly to herself. This was wrong...something about this did not feel right...the simple fact she wasn't doing anything was killing her. Waiting for work was...terribly mundane and Shay did not take kindly to idly standing by as her glory slipped ever further from her reach.

And so bright golden eyes stared ahead emptily as she sat at the bar of a space station...a massive bottle in hand as she tapped her fingers irritably along the table as a couple of men chatted one another up obnoxiously in her personal space. Fury intensifying in her heart as the blood in her veins came to a boil, clenching her jaw and clenching her fist as a debilitating sensation of wrath began to swim within her mind. She was the Mother of her people, a Goddess of War and Wrath...and yet here she was.

Surrounded by filth.

She wanted, more than anything...to burn it all away.

And all it took was a spark.

[member="The Slave"] | [member="Llkt'tudrin'wyshd"] | [member="Delilah Keyes"] | [member="Darth Abyss"] | [member="Nathaniel Trumont"] | [member="Marcus Itera"]​

VZX-73258:
I slowly entered the bar, as I noticed that a bar fight was on. It was quite normal by now, at least for bars. I took out my blaster-rifle just in case, if somebody would try to aim at me and click that trigger.
"Hello, mates." I calmly said, like the fight was nothing interesting.I walked over to a random seat I scanned and sat down. I could feel the tension rise, as I put my blaster-rifle away.

 

[Switch]

More and more shouting, a table crashing behind her, a man sent flying, and that smelly oaf to her left just wouldn't stop moving! As if it wasn't bad enough that the alcohol wasn't hitting her properly, it seemed like the same curse that had affected her little bubble has spread to the entire establishment. Even in her state, it was clear to the slicer that tensions were reaching a high point in the area surrounding her little stool, as evidenced by the smatterings of people cresting over their respective boiling points.

Stop fething bumping me! Her hand shook, another crack spreading across the maimed glass caught in her vice-like grip. She twitched to the left, her shoulder twisting in preparation for that initial swing that would shatter her improvised weapon against the stranger's forehead when she was shaken from her pre-fight trance. A man to her right had spoken to her. Where the hell did he come from?

Switch turned her head to face her neighbor on the right, giving him in interrogative stare from behind the goggles covering her eyes. She gave him a brief once over, the slightly orange hue her low-light tech unable to subdue those striking eyes of his. He was handsome, she'd afford him that, but he was also getting well into her personal space and she was absolutely not in the mood right now. He had interrupted her, and she wasn't sure she liked the way he was looking at her. "I am dangerous." Mostly satisfied with the level of her threat, the former pirate turned once more to lean her chin into the palm of her hand, her shoulders lifted with the promise of violence to come.

[member="VZX-73258 ~Mr. Copper~"]
[member="Formorta"]
[member="Lancer Damar"]
[member="Captain Marek"]
[member="Cinder Rose"]
[member="Vokun"]