[the full copypasta: Her outfit is more rusty red than white or gold, The jacket in particular is pocked with rips and holes, including a cut perhaps a few fingerswidths high over her right kidney, and a larger, thicker slash at the middle of her chest as if something'd gone right through. Her hands tremble--even the prosthetic, normally solid as a rock, seems to have a bit of a wobble. There's a few dents at the wrist and up the forearm, and while it's harder to tell through her clothing, it doesn't quite meet up flush against the skin and bone as it should.]
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Don't suppose you can ask for a refund.
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[her outfit's totally trashed, but eh. she looks him over, jittery]
If you want it, I'm taking offers.
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Now that he's not distracted by the boat though---]
. . .
The fuck happened to you?
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[But she's fine! And shrugs]
...Got some debts to repay is all.
You gonna look after Angel?
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Here.
[Reaching to take hold of her arm]
Let me Repair that for you.
[Too bad he doesn't know this is a fucking dead zone]
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[backs the hell up, automatic]
--It--won't work.
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Nemesis?
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[and she cuts herself off, gets her game face back on]
You shouldn't stick around. Be careful.
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Are you going to look out for someone?
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but.]
...Fine.
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Weapons I got.
[also Living Forge so /o/]
...C'mon, if we're going.
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