<div class="floatleft">(https://cdn.weasyl.com/static/media/1b/a7/33/1ba733b406a74f55b4a190775935aa1f316f55e3577991f401613a009bbbce81.jpg)</div><br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial black;">NAME:</span></strong><acronym title="Loose">Luus</acronym>Remiril (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=329085.msg15726956#msg15726956)<br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial black;">RACE:</span></strong>Turian<br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial black;">OCCUPATION:</span></strong>Merc/Demolitionist Vanguard<br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial black;"><strong>DATE:</strong></span>20th, December 2174 CE - Evening<br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial black;">WEARING:</span></strong>As Shown<br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial black;">LOCATION:</span></strong>Luus' quarters<br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial black;">CONTENT:</span></strong>Morale Boost<br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial black;">TAG:</span></strong>Ashton | Closed<br/><br/><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><br/>Cleaned and better bandaged, all he'd had to do was wait. And in that time, he gathered up a couple of cigars. Plus a pair of shot glasses he doubted they'd need. It was good to look prepared anyway. Either than this, he booted up his hologame console to screw around a bit in some first person shooting game the humans had made. It was repetitive, but fun enough.<br/><br/>He was just exiting a match when the knock came at the door. "Come on in!" he called as he shut off the hologram screen and set the controller down on the foldable dark wooden table, just a few scoots away from the bottle, the glasses, and the clipped and unlit cigars.<br/><br/>Then, the door opened, and in came Ashton, looking just as tough and lovely as she had covered in blood. But this time she was pristinely clean; a fact he knew he'd have to rectify. "A little something called 'tequila.' I hear it's strong."<br/><br/>He lifted the cigars from their place laid across an ashtray on the table. "Clipped yours for ya," he said, gesturing for her to take to chair opposite his and offering up the cigar for her to take. Then came the lighter. "You know they say this is a waste of good oxygen levels. Somethin' about it being unhealthy for the lungs too. I ignore that part." As he lit his cigar, he breathed in the scent of it and his mandibles rose with glee. It had been too long since he'd relaxed with one, and after a day like this he certainly could use it.<br/><br/>He leaned it, lighting her cigar next, before lifting his to his maw, capturing its sides in his mandibles, and sucking in sweet relief as his icy blue eyes met hers.