Morroja spat a gobbet of saliva, grimacing as she drew her bootknife.<br/>"Yeah, 'Am Morroja. An' jus' what 'zit ya want?" she yelled across the commotion of the bar. She kept her relaxed postured, leant on the bar as she twirled the knife in her fingers. She coud see the dark glint of her machete in the weapons locker, she supposed her knife could do the job depending on whatever this orge-mutant freak wanted.<br/>"Yer'd better 'ave a good reason fer killin' two o' that people of mah new favourite joint", she muttered, her attention now lost from the seductive human and now on the lumpy creautre before her.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>