#banditceo

[30]

For now she disregards the ways in which this was her own fault for thinking she could slip in and scout the situation in the caustic swamps unnoticed.

The Leader hardly appears to the be the mythical beast Nikolai likened him to, just another unwashed brute… with a ponytail. Though far from stirring proper intimidation he did strike unnerving with a particular flourish, the way his eyes crawled her tattoos making the Siren crave a hot shower. When it looked as though he was about to help himself to a tactile inspection of the markings Maya wrenched hard enough to break the greasy grip of the sand pirate restraining her. 

Nisha glared up at the hulk of a bandit, squinting in the midday sun with both hands on her hips as anger threatened her composure. Sawteeth, she could handle. Even Slabs, given her mood. Whatever this guy was though, she had no fucking clue, only curious as to exactly how he managed to knock her posse on their asses and still have the balls to stare her down on main street. That kind of attitude was dangerous, especially in a place like this. The shit that’d get you killed unless you had the bullets or the brains to back it up. And as it would seem, he did.

Her head cocked, the slightest twitch of a smile teasing her lips. “You’ve got a lotta’ nerve, cowboy.” She drawled, taking a step forward and poking a finger to his chest, “I like that.” 

She looked up from the mountain of paperwork on her desk, crimson brows pulled together in a scowl.   "So, not everybody wants’a fully auto machine gun.  I get that.  This whole pseudo-western marketing’s been done to death though, an’ really… diversity is the key to keeping a company running.  If Jakobs wants to appeal to the younger generation of Pandorans, they should invest in rocket launchers and grenades…" Rys paused in her marketing tirade, whipping the wire-framed glasses off her thin nose.  “Sebastian Lamarque?  As I live and breathe, I ain’t seen you in a ‘mongs’s age.  …how the hell did you get into my office?”

"I don't know about that. The psuedo-western thing has the charm every wannabe gunslinger craves, and sniper rifles and revolvers don't often come much better." Sebastian nodded with an air of wisdom. "Besides, Jakobs has plenty of other planets to sell on, and the whole punk image you've got going on is all directed at the younger crowd." 

 Sebastian grinned, clambered in through the window and shut it neatly behind him, twirling an ice-climbing pick in one hand.