06-23-2014, 08:39 PM
"Well, should probably talk some sense into those idiots that landed you there."
Clean air and water were all fine and dandy, and of course someone had to make sure it was around for the next generation. But any effort she made was a one step forward, two step back game thanks to the idiots and extremist Eco-Terrorist types. Those ones always confused the hell out of him. Most of what they did was entirely counter-productive.
He shrugged indifferently at her worries of the stuff spilling; it meant nothing to him after all. The people living in those underground tunnels had make terrible choices in life that landed them where they were. It was the mid-21st century. Folks should have realized by now that just because a place was on the cover of every other damn fashion magazine or trash news rag, it wasn't the promised land. And now they lived in tunnels and only existed because the society above was s damn content and arrogant that they just didn't give a shit about the illegals below them. It was all so bloody ridiculous.
He may have made a comment to that topic, but she continued on about what she had seen at the old factory, and he perked up a bit, glancing at her with a brief hint of interest. "Eyes shined like a cats in the light?"
She probably didn't go there without a flashlight, surely. "Used it's claws to climb on the ceiling?"
His tone was amused, interested; maybe he was just toying with her again, teasing her. Of course, in reality, he had a pretty good idea of what it was, and finally had something to look forward to. He hadn't crossed a Rakshasa since he'd been running with the Atharim back in Oman, and that had been an entirely enjoyable night. Damn thing had near killed him before he put it down.
He grabbed his fresh drink, vaguely annoyed that she had payed for it, and tapped it against her glass before tapping it in turn against the table before taking a sip. It was a toast to the fallen, an old habit he hadn't ditched just yet.
Clean air and water were all fine and dandy, and of course someone had to make sure it was around for the next generation. But any effort she made was a one step forward, two step back game thanks to the idiots and extremist Eco-Terrorist types. Those ones always confused the hell out of him. Most of what they did was entirely counter-productive.
He shrugged indifferently at her worries of the stuff spilling; it meant nothing to him after all. The people living in those underground tunnels had make terrible choices in life that landed them where they were. It was the mid-21st century. Folks should have realized by now that just because a place was on the cover of every other damn fashion magazine or trash news rag, it wasn't the promised land. And now they lived in tunnels and only existed because the society above was s damn content and arrogant that they just didn't give a shit about the illegals below them. It was all so bloody ridiculous.
He may have made a comment to that topic, but she continued on about what she had seen at the old factory, and he perked up a bit, glancing at her with a brief hint of interest. "Eyes shined like a cats in the light?"
She probably didn't go there without a flashlight, surely. "Used it's claws to climb on the ceiling?"
His tone was amused, interested; maybe he was just toying with her again, teasing her. Of course, in reality, he had a pretty good idea of what it was, and finally had something to look forward to. He hadn't crossed a Rakshasa since he'd been running with the Atharim back in Oman, and that had been an entirely enjoyable night. Damn thing had near killed him before he put it down.
He grabbed his fresh drink, vaguely annoyed that she had payed for it, and tapped it against her glass before tapping it in turn against the table before taking a sip. It was a toast to the fallen, an old habit he hadn't ditched just yet.