<div class="floatright">(http://i1231.photobucket.com/albums/ee507/miinnii9/Roleplay%20Characters/NOMADS_Cyberpunk_2.jpg)</div><div style="text-align: right;"><strong>Jacey...</strong> <em>Just Jacey.</em><br/><strong>Location:</strong> <em>Inside the Prospector Saloon</em><br/><strong> Disposition:</strong> <em>Restless</em></div><div class="floatleft">║▌│█│║▌║││█ ▌█ ▌█ ▌ ║▌│█│║ ║▌│█│║▌║││█ ▌█ ▌█ ▌ ║▌│█│║ ║▌│█│║▌║││█ ▌█ ▌█ ▌ ║▌│█│║</div><br/><hr/><br/><div align="center"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 10pt;">Goodsprings was just one turd in a long line of turds on an even bigger turd called the Mojave Wasteland... in Jace's opinion anyway. She was from back West, where the land was NCR controlled, the women were loose, and the beer flowed overpriced at every stop you made. Well, even Jace would have to say that Goodsprings and the West weren't that much different in that last respect. The old dried up bartender Trudy was charging twice as many caps as the last stop Jace had made for beer; her price for whiskey was even more ridiculous. That didn't stop her buying of course. Jace had the alcohol tolerance of a man, and with drinking being her favorite past time, nothing was going to stop her from wasting some caps on some fresh brew.<br/><br/>For the past few months, or so it seemed like anyway, Jace had been here and there, selling Jet, Psycho, Mentants, Hydra, Buffout, Rebound, and any other Chem you could put your mind to. She bought what she sold directly from the makers themselves for bargain prices, then sold them to the highest addicted bidder for twice as much. In her eyes, it was purely business. After all, was it her fault if some loon buffed up on Buffout kills a whole town after he buys from her? <em>No. It's not. I'm just trying to make a living.</em> So a living she had made. Granted it wasn't a very good one. The money was enough to scrabble by: a few beers here, some ammo there, some gambling here, but it wouldn't get her into New Vegas. <em>The grandest place in these here parts,</em> as some old coot a few stops back was like to tell her. From what she had heard, Vegas was a Utopia for someone like her. Merc work to do, idiots to sell Chems to, Casinos galore, fancy suits, and all the beer she could ever want. It was a hopeless thought though, and she knew it. Living from town to town and selling her wares were the only things that the future had in store for her. This day was no different from all the others. Today Goodsprings, tomorrow that other turd Primm. <br/><br/>Jace gave a sigh at her thoughts and propped her boots up on the old chipping table, causing a layer of mud to fall of the bottom and dust the ground. The old dried up bat Trudy gave her a dirty look, but she would never turn away a paying customer, and Jace knew it. The bottle of lukewarm beer lay on the table in front of her, along with half a pack of smokes. The ground around her was full of ashes from where she had completely disregarded the ashtray that had been offered to her. That had made the bartender turn away angrily with a mumble of "raised in a barn." For all Jace knew, she had been raised in a barn. "<strong>Time to hit the road soon,</strong>" she whispered to herself as she flicked a few more ashes into the pile forming at the bottom of her chair. </span></div>