He stared long and hard at her, the angle of his head implying he was not staring at the nicely displayed shelf of tit flesh.<i>"I want... to know..."</i>He stated, but did not move. Scarlet lensed gaze locked onto her own.<i> "I want, to know my name..." </i>He stated, for the second time that day. Yet, despite the venomous nature with which he spoke, his body remained called, almost lethargicly so... A coiled snake, a ploy. A rehersed, second nature trick, lulling those around him into a false sense of ease. He was ready, as ever, each hand resting upon the grip of a stolen gun. Behind the mask, he was watching everything, constantly shifting his gaze from one shadow, to the window, the door, and back to her...<br/><br/>Up and down her in fact. Idly wondering if she used the body paint to hide skinpockets. A self mutilationist's way of stowing small, unseen items on their person. She looked, full bodied, and beautiful. Appealing to any creature with eyes. A far cry from what he beheld of himself, all those days ago. He had yet to remove the armor since then, seeing his reflection in the doctor's mirror. Indeed, they were such oposites...<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>