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"...Feh." Lex finishes his cigarette. He drops the butt on the ground and grinds it with his boot. "I don't like him. I don't know what you fucking see in this thing. I don't like how he's in some hot chick's body."
"But I think we can both agree it's better if we tolerate his presence. For the sake of the mission." Ashley snuffs her cigarette in the same way as Lex. "Thanks for the cigs. That helped. A lot."
"Yeah. Some fresh air helped. I dunno, I guess he's more helpful as a dude helpin' us instead of fuckin'...invading my head and turning me into a meat puppet. How the hell does a centipede even do that? Aren't they just bugs?" If it wasn't for you seeing something like this first hand yesterday, you would believe him. You would think it was your mind playing tricks.
"I don't know. I don't care. He's helping us." That's all you can respond with. The two seem to tolerate this for now. "We got a picture. We'll ask some people. After a bit of patching up." You pull out your trauma kit.
It doesn't take long to cover Lex's bruises with the appropriate creams and bandages to treat them. They weren't super awful to begin with and this kit is oddly user friendly with the supplies it gives you. He's right as rain once you're done.
>-1 CHARGE on TRAUMA KIT
>-MALTRO CIGGIES
>+1 FLESH on LEX, ASHLEY and LEX will regenerate RESTRAINT over the mission.
"Damn. High quality shit. You got that from that Z-Corp fag?" He takes a moment to check the quick patchjob you gave him.
"Bought it from a store back in District 7. Not important. We got a picture. We'll ask around. Sound good?" It's best to keep yourself focused on a goal to prevent your voices from distracting you too much. You show the three of them the picture you printed out.
"Sounds good enough." "Yeah, I'm fine with that." "I believe it's a satisfying option to pick."
The two grimace at Quentin's new voice but <span class="mu-g">whatever discomfort they felt is automatically washed away by the nicotine high they're on.</span> That's one less issue to worry about.
Without further ado, the four of you leave the house and the MANY corpses rotting there for someone else to find. The orange haze of District 8 has only gotten worse since you last saw it a hour or so ago. The grinding of gears. The horrid stench of sulfur and smoke. It's impressive how anyone can work, let alone live, here.
[SEEKER OF THE CITY] Simply put, sometimes there is no other option for people. This is where you go when there's no other options.
[SEEKER OF THE CITY] They are willing to do anything to get something better.
Most of the people you're walking past are looking on at your outfits in fear. You didn't exactly have time to remove them in between your bluffing attempt and the swarm of combat. Oh well. You can always clarify that later. You just need to find someone desperate enough to answer your questions.
You eventually stumble across two exhausted, bone tired workers sitting at a street corner.
