#vcga

                                             she looks down at   HER   OWN   cleavage   (   or better said   LACK   OF   cleavage   )   &&   frowns.         was this a joke   ???            was he   PLAYING   HER   a fool   ???           padmé naberrie,        always so touchy about about this.         “   i’m afraid god didn’t give me any so-called maracas so   I’M   UNABLE   to shake them.   “

@vcga

@vcga

It as another trip to the shit show. That was what Desmond could refer Omega to in the most polite of ways. Each time he traveled to this place to stock up on thermal clips and new equipment, he felt a round in a decontamination chamber was in order. As well as a shower as hot as he could stand. Perhaps a thorough scrub down to get the filth of the place off his person. In spite of these feelings, the young assassin didn't have much room to judge the residents. For he was a person that killed for a living; and though he was particular about what jobs he took, it didn't take away from the fact that he simply was that. A hitman. Desmond has no records of any kind that he existed. Only a small handful of aliases he went by to back himself up around different groups of individuals, and the right amount of instincts to know when to run for his damn life when need be. It didn't stop him from liking just about the only place in the Milky Way he could go to in order to freely by his supplies, however. Even if there had been a couple times he smuggled himself into the citadel to treat himself with some real food and a warm bed. For those instances, it was always coming back with a one night stand. A way he charmed them with his smiles and smooth talking. Just enough to spend one night in a soft bed and some company. But little did that ever happen. Because Desmond knew better than to make such a thing a habit. Whether it was getting attached to others, or sneaking into places illegally. He had left the colony he was raised on the moment he was old enough to point and shoot a gun, and convinced a small group of mercenaries to take him on. He pulled his weight enough to become valuable- only to disappear the first chance he was given. Gods, those were memories he didn't enjoy looking back upon. For the group had rougher people than he enjoyed being around. A means to an end. Just like this visit was. His fingers curled around the plating of his armor. The logo of the Armac Arsenal sigil was well faded on the chest plating, the only telling sign that he wasn't its first owner and probably bought at a second hand shop. But the set was something he young man held pride in; for as old as it was, it was reliable. The beats of afterlife buzzed in his ears, reverberating down to to his core. A perfect combination with the booze to forget why he was still here. A good night's sleep in a private room... all within an apartment residing in the slums of this place. The young man's eyes shifted toward a dancing Asari, the attention he gave only fleeting. He leaned back in his chair, drinking from a bottle of his own alcohol (because humans didn't order their own drinks on Omega), before sitting upright once more. His attention grabbed from one newest patron of this shit hole. The one that screamed "I could do better than this rock"

Toni stared at the man, not hiding her confusion. “Ummm... Good for you?” She would never understand soldier types.

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fuck em up

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