Shade stared back at her through his mask, realising the young rogue would be trying to learn more about him. He might be able to tell her anything and put her to proper use...or could he?
Shade's face was hidden by his usual mask, the rest of his body parts, from hands to toes, all masked by some sort of cloth. He was, for all intents and purposes, unrecognisable.
"I'm Shade," he whispered, as opposed to speaking plainly, for some reason, "Nice to meet you."
Shade turned around to one of the waitresses and whispered "I'll have a martini. Stirred, not shaken."
He looked at the young rogue, then whispered "You want anything?"
X grinned, the light reflecting off of his serrated teeth, bringing his rifle onto the table and fiddling with the canister...
"What kind of a name...? That is none of your business. You call me a.... Poser, huh? Does being a psychopath make you any better? Please, spare me the talk-down, as for why I do what I do... Because it's what I'm.... 'Made' for. Trained to kill creatures like yourself. So if anyone here should be proving themselves, it is you."
He sets his rifle back against the table, leaning back against the wall. Who does this.... Fool think he is...?
Unknown, Commander. I'm surprised you haven't put him down yet.
The sounds of heavy boots could be heard as a rather burly man walked in. He wore a ribbed jacket with straps connecting the front; desert-camouflage pants that fit loosely against his legs; armored boots that had four, short spikes set into the toe; and two pistols holstered against his right hip. A patch on his shoulder outlined a serpent, coiling to strike.
His black hair was cut short, yet held a scruffy appearance. His brown eyes scanned over the area, his nostrils flaring at taking in the sight of so many multi-raced characters.
"Disgusting," He muttered to himself. He walked forward to the bar, juking to avoid a Kusaran man who stood up. It would be particularly bad if he had been touched. Can't have any one like that touch you, after all.
He sat down at the bar, looking up to the Libertonian woman and smiling. "Hey doll, why don't you go and get me a beer lickety-split, eh?" He said in a very coarse Libertonian accent.
A smirk crossed her lips before she turned on her heel and reached for a glass.
"THE HULL HAS BEEN BREACHED AND THESCIENCEIS LEAKING OUT!"
"Nah, I ain't scared of you, you probably can't shoot for s***"
He smiled at the mans 'grills' and sipped his drink,
"Someone that wears that much makeup and bling?" he smiled "You have to be another poser, no one wears a stupid outfit like that and takes life so seriously..."
X just laughs, as if Tyler were like the rest. He stands up, walking into a dimly lit area, his full pitch-black armour visible, scratched out insignia on the right shoulder plate, his helmet covering all but his mandible.
"Not much 'bling' now is there...?"
He grins again, bearing his white, bare teeth.
"And you too would take life seriously if you've lived for seven-hundred and fourty-three years, creature."
He sits back down, leaving his rifle where it was previously.
"It's practical for where it was intended. Back there you didn't have energy bolts to worry about so much as a stray bullet, crossfire, or even a support beam collapsing on top of you."
He stretches his arms, scratching his mandible.
"It isn't overcompensating, creature. It is rather thin, tough, but thin, and oh so very flexible. On top of that, I stand at seven feet and five inches, how big do you expect it to be!?"
"But you have a heck load of new weaknesses, there is no way you can move about in a suit like that with agility"
He began shuffling again, moving the cards about with ease between his fingers.
"Surprises me an old man like you can even stand up in a big heavy hunk of junk like that" he chuckled "With over seven hundred years of tissue decay?"
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![[Image: Tyrael.gif]](http://images2.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20070319171309/diablo/images/a/a5/Tyrael.gif)
