Goldy is attired in her customary working garb: a black t-shirt, a short black leather jacket, dark navy cargo pants and sturdy ankle boots. In addition, there is a thin vest of Kevlar 3 under her top.
Fingerless leather gloves grace her hands. A small knapsack rests on a back devoid of its usual rifle. Through what is perhaps an imprudent force of habit, her hair is down, cascading over her shoulders from a rolled up balaclava. A silenced pistol is at the ready. Her expression is professional and serious.
She scopes the new surroundings out before silently acknowledging Miho.
Her room. She moves to one of the walls and tests its solidness with the flat of her hand. It's plain and minimalist, just like her place in the bar. Only this one has a bonus floral arrangement. She pauses by the chest and pulls a flower halfway out of the vase. Then drops it back in. Her cell.
Her gaze falls to the prescription bottles for a fleeting moment before she heads to the door and checks it out. Poor girl. From one prison into another. She walks over to the floor length window, footsteps soundless on the matted hardwood, and inspects the rain-streaked pane. Not for long though...
She turns back to the other girls.
"Plexiglas. Thick, but I think my laser tool will cut through it," she says in a half-whisper. A nod to the door. "Or we can try our luck picking the lock and hope that we don't run into anyone."
no subject
Fingerless leather gloves grace her hands. A small knapsack rests on a back devoid of its usual rifle. Through what is perhaps an imprudent force of habit, her hair is down, cascading over her shoulders from a rolled up balaclava. A silenced pistol is at the ready. Her expression is professional and serious.
She scopes the new surroundings out before silently acknowledging Miho.
Her room. She moves to one of the walls and tests its solidness with the flat of her hand. It's plain and minimalist, just like her place in the bar. Only this one has a bonus floral arrangement. She pauses by the chest and pulls a flower halfway out of the vase. Then drops it back in. Her cell.
Her gaze falls to the prescription bottles for a fleeting moment before she heads to the door and checks it out. Poor girl. From one prison into another. She walks over to the floor length window, footsteps soundless on the matted hardwood, and inspects the rain-streaked pane. Not for long though...
She turns back to the other girls.
"Plexiglas. Thick, but I think my laser tool will cut through it," she says in a half-whisper. A nod to the door. "Or we can try our luck picking the lock and hope that we don't run into anyone."