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Pysch(o)
#1
She might as well have crawled slimy and stinking from the pit of a sewer by the look they gave her when she finally reported in. The months had not been kind; caverns still hollowed around her eyes, her skin pasty beneath the scatter of freckles across her cheeks. Ropey tendrils of hair dripped around her shoulders, hanging blunt above the sardonic tilt of her eyes.

You've been out of the field a long time, they hedged once DNA confirmed her identity and she was hastened to the nearest government building. So naturally they wanted to evaluate her mental state. She was the Custody's steel, after all, and they had every right to examine her for flaws. Though they were welcome to test her for sharpness too.

It amused her all the same.

She looked up curiously, fingers laced on the desk. A smile played at the edges of her lips, for by the severe look on the agent's face, this one had clearance to access her file. Or enough of it anyway.

Female killers always seemed to upset others more than their male counterparts, like the curve of feminine lashes and the blush of feminine cheeks ought not be conduits for something so sinister. It was worse when they found her attractive; gaze catching on her slender fingers or the swell of her lips. Recanting quickly when they considered what ruin either tool might have wrought.

It was cruel maybe, but Nhysa enjoyed the flashes of discomfort. "I won't kill you unless I'm told to," she'd tease. "You're loyal to the Custody, right?"

The carelessness of her tone did not often go down well. The seriousness with which she answered their questions now even less so.

"I took some vacation time. I got a great deal, see. Really couldn't turn it down."

When that answer didn't suffice, she scraped back her chair and lifted her shirt. An ugly scar, still twisted red and healing amongst black scab, stood angry against her pale flesh. The nanoaid should have had more impact, but whatever the poison had been clearly affected its virility. The skin was dying. 

Her brows lifted. His face blanched. She sat back down.

Next question.

By the end of the interrogation and battery of tests, boredom sunk her chin to her fist. Though when he finally shuffled to depart, she straightened, raised a finger to halt him, and smiled. 

"There's something else." Her look was sly. It was almost as if the shadows chasing the corners of the rooms deepened as she beckoned him back down. "I wish to register."
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Pysch(o) - by Nhysa - 09-06-2018, 03:29 PM

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