The stillness was broken by a brief rap at the door followed by its opening, and surely enough as he twisted to look over his shoulder Chris was met with the sight of the crew chief being maneuvered into the room by a particularly burly guard. The woman had stripped down to the simple short-cut tanktop normally worn under her jumpsuit, revealing a pair of thickly muscled arms and a chiseled core that would have made a Gundam Fighter proud. Sam, they called her; she'd threatened to snap him in half when he'd made the mistake of calling her by her full name of Samantha, taken from the crew roster, upon their first meeting. With that physique, it seemed wise not to disregard it as an idle threat. While the soldier's expression was hidden by dark headgear, one got the impression he was glaring at her as he retreated from the room once more, leaving her standing at the end of the table opposite the mystery woman. Like he, she was manacled - but they'd dug up some heavy steel bands rather than his electromagnetic cuffs. Not taking any chances, then.
Sam didn't seem too worse for wear despite what had been said, though the off-color splotches of half-healed bruises marked numerous spots across her torso and limbs. She'd clearly put up a fight, and though Chris wasn't about to complain he found the fact that they'd gone to such effort to take her down non-lethally a bit odd. She glanced down at him out of the corner of her eye, seemingly assessing his condition for a half-second before speaking.
Though she addressed their mutual 'friend' directly and bluntly, Sam was analyzing every scrap of information about the other woman and the environment she could get her eyes on without being overt. The mind of a Coordinator still lay at the core of her musclebound exterior, and she hadn't become the head mechanic of a ship boasting tech as advanced and experimental as the stuff on the Prometheus by being an intellectual slouch.
"Whaddaya want, cunt?"Statistics:Posted by BioHazard — Thu Feb 22, 2018 10:31 pm
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