Sue tossed the letter down onto the bed when she finished it, and grumbled. One of these days, if she was going to stay with this little team, she might have to learn how to handle situations in a non-violent matter. But that day probably wasn't today.<br/><br/>She went back to her gear, slipping out of the light robe as she examined her armor. Even the fishnets had been mostly repaired, everything cleaned and repaired and shined up. Impressive, really.<br/><br/>Her arm blades were in good shape, cleaned up of blood and grime they almost looked green again, but after being soaked in blood and guts for years they were impregnated with the stuff, and still looked like a dull black.<br/><br/>She slid on the leather shorts, her top, gloves, boots, settled her goggles down onto her forehead and snapped her retracting blades into place. All cleaned up, she actually didn't look half bad, even in "kill mode". She slipped without sound from her room, leaving behind what she didn't need, and moved to the bar. She needed sugar.<br/><br/>She ignored the others for the most part as she hopped up on a seat, fixing the bartender with a glare.<span style="color: #ff00ff">"Strawberry milkshake,"</span>she growled.<span style="color: #ff00ff">"Whipped cream."</span><div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>