<span style="color: #ff00ff">"He looks sick,"</span>she mumbled, rubbing her hands along the man's chest, feeling for lumps and tight muscles. Most freesiders ended up sick from chems or rads, or just filth in general. It didn't matter anymore... she wasn't exactly in good health herself.<br/><br/>She felt Fanya's hand on her shoulder but didn't pay much attention. The woman was beautiful but the paint disturbed her. Fanya wore a full-body mask. People in masks should not be trusted... her friend had told her that before he had died. She paid close attention to his wisdom.<br/><br/>Her hand went rigid, fingers curling into claws as she gauged at the man's chest, above his heart. Blood didn't flow... not totally fresh. But fresh enough. She licked her fingers before leaning in, tearing off a strip of the Freeside thug's meat and raising it to her mouth, whimpering with repressed shame and barely-restrained bloodlust as she gnawed.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>