<div class="floatleft">(https://i.pinimg.com/originals/fc/d5/b0/fcd5b04e2458fff93763a1fb265e7967.png)</div><br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial black;">NAME:</span></strong>Malcolm Thomas (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=329085.msg15779733#msg15779733)<br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial black;">RACE:</span></strong>Human<br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial black;">OCCUPATION:</span></strong>Engineering Gimp<br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial black;">DATE:</span></strong>December 20th, 2174 CE<br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial black;">WEARING:</span></strong>Black tank top & loose black pants w/ boots.<br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial black;">LOCATION:</span></strong>Kalanhai Bottom Deck | Engineering<br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial black;">CONTENT:</span></strong>Huh...What?<br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial black;">TAG:</span></strong>Flo<br/><br/><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><br/>Her question had him pinching the back of his neck again, consciously forcing the muscles in his back to loosen up, knowing that if he let tension coil in them there was the chance they'd tighten up into the blindingly agonizing knots that left him seeing stars and feeling as if he were lying in that fucking trench again.  Scratching at the back of his head, he murmured with a smirk.  "I'm good at it, always have been.  It's not just for her sake, hell...if that had been the case, I'd have never joined up in the first place.  No, after Mindoir, I wasn't really any use as a soldier anymore, didn't feel like it was right to put the uniform back on and pretend like I<em>was</em>.  Everyone's better off if I'm doing what I'm doing."<br/><br/>He looked more than a little stunned by the request (offer?), having been mentally practicing some sort of suggestion to get the chance to spend more time with her.  Fully expecting to be shot down.  When she called him pretty and referred to the outing as a date, he didn't know how to respond for a moment.  After picking his brain back up off the floor where he'd dropped it, however, he nodded quickly, the eager grin rising back to his lips, and the energy that had been briefly subsumed during the talk of his military failures returned.<br/><br/>"Y-Yeah!  I'd like that.  It's been a long time, but I guess there's always a chance I'll need to pull on those old skills on this mission, so it would be a good idea to bone up.  You...you can just hit me up when you're feeling up to it.  I'm MTArmE@ctdl.net."  He drew the letters in the air with his metal index finger as he spoke, then dropped the hand back down at his side, peering at her with an air of someone trying to riddle out the function of some strange, alien device or decipher some complex bit of coding.<br/><br/>"Want me to walk you to your room, Florinthia?"