A lanky little black kitten trots on over towards the gunsmith and lets out a raspy meow. It seems Armani has taken a liking to the rough spoken Exo.
Huh.
Blue optics narrow into near slits as Banshee-44 stares down at the skinny furry thing clambering up his pants leg.
“Ain’t you a wee thing,” he grumbles, what sounds to be a smile in his voice. He reaches down and gently takes the kitten by the scruff to deposit them on his shoulder.
“Dunno why you’d wanna hang around here, but I figure this is more comfortable than dangling like that.”
The Vanguard Gunsmith doesn’t have many in the way of constant companions. The little kitten suits him just fine.













