Try as he might, his Graecian heritage dictated that frowning was something he was physically incapable of doing. His expression was a blank slate, practically begging for a hint of personality that would never come; it was as close to a scowl as he was ever going to get. And so Garridan Karos sat in his chair, his icy-blue arms crossed over each other in a mixture of frustration and boredom. His deep red eyes shot around the room, in a perpetual state of half-openness, though what they were looking for he didn't know. His short blonde hair was slicked back, as it always was, and he was dressed in a simple tan tank top and a pair of green khakis, held in place by a dark brown belt, with the navy blue short-sleeved jacket he usually wore draped over the back of the chair he was sitting on. He appeared to be a bit older, having a strong, somewhat intimidating build, though he was relatively thin due to his parent's species. Despite the fact that he was sitting down, it was obvious to tell that Garridan was rather tall; 6'5" to be precise, when he was standing.<br/><br/>As usual, he was sitting alone; socializing wasn't at the forefront of his mind, and he felt no particular bond with the other crossbreeds here, regardless of them being subjected to the same hell as he. As such, despite the long time he had already spent here, he didn't know many of his fellow inmates, and certainly wouldn't consider any of them 'friends.' Ever since being sent here to Astiria two years ago, Garridan held a cold disposition toward the galaxy and nearly all who inhabited it; particularly those cowardly enough to throw every crossbreed into a virtual prison, no questions asked.<br/><br/>For a prison, it was actually quite nice; fresh air and water, mild weather, and monthly supply drops meant that they never wanted for much.. aside from freedom. Thankfully, despite the fact that he was mostly Graecian, he was used to warmer weather, and the bracelet on his wrist kept him cool if it was particularly hot out. But for all the things this planet offered, it was still a prison; and his prison it would remain, until the day he died if the UG had anything to say about it. Even now, sitting here casually in a room he had furnished to be his own personal workshop, two years after being sent here, that word had never left his mind.<span style="font-style: italic">Prison.</span>Hell, he didn't even know what became of his wife and child. They could have been killed or imprisoned for 'fraternizing with dangerous, outlawed individuals,' but odds are he would never find out.<br/><br/>Garridan set his hands together, elbows resting on his knees and brow furrowed intensely as he shut his eyes.<span style="font-style: italic">Jelana.. Alvin.. Forgive me for what I have done to you,</span>were the words that crossed through his mind once again, as they had almost every day he had been stuck on this planet. He stayed like this for a few minutes, in a silent and immobile state, before abruptly getting up from his chair and walking to the door on the other side of his room, through the piles of metal and scrap that he used in his work. Most of it was gathered and salvaged from parts sent during the monthly drops, as were the tools he used to tinker with them, and this was why he was leaving. Working with these was his only reprieve from the tedium of the day-in-day-out nothingness, and if his sense of time was still in check, the drop would be due any day now. It was always sent to the same general spot, and he would wait it out if it meant the difference between being there first and last; it wasn't like he had anything else to do here.