Welcome to Gaia! ::

By the time Roan was on scene, the last of the ammunition set aside for the test run of the handgun had been expended. Now Nines knelt and had begun collecting the spent casings, dutifully cleaning up after himself. He did not notice when Roan arrived; he was preoccupied with the ammunition and once he had pocketed the spent brass, he then plugged the handgun back into its case to take to his quarters. So still was Roan that unless she spoke up, he would almost literally run into her when he turned to head back inside.

He turned about, hefting the cases for the dual handguns, and looked up to see Roan a mere foot or so away. He stepped back quickly, seeking to avoid a collision. Of course, Roan had already ensured such would not happen, but still he rocked back on his heels and rebalanced himself.

Ohshit! Sorry! I didn't hear you swing by!

His hasty apology came as she was lighting up her smoke, and the silence that spread between the two was quite awkward...for Nines, at least. He took a second step back, ensuring he was once again properly balanced from his sudden retreat, and tilted his head to the left.

So...how long have you been standing there?

Just following your suggestion of ballistic therapy. Jan let me rummage through the armory for some ammo.

The initial shock of the surprise encounter had worn off, leaving Nines slipping into a more comfortable tack for conversation. While there were pressing things on his mind to speak with Roan about, at least the effort at pleasantries was made; he wanted to *try* to get along with his host.

Didn't know Corbin was in the house. Surprised to hear it, considering what you did to the poor s**t last time I saw you two together.

Sensing a topic to not be broached, Nines nodded and vocalized no objections to the change in subject. Instead, he walked along just a few steps behind Roan into the house, and shrugged.

It's one of my better qualities. I take it you're talking about the brainbender in a box back there.

Are you sure that isn't what happened?

Nines was a little slower to get comfortable. He opted for a chair, certainly, but he sat down gently and did not simply kick back until he had laid his firearms daintily on the ground.

Dunno why the b***h did what she did, truth be told. Until I woke up a dead man, I thought she was the high school love interest. Thought she was being a philanthropic sweetie because I actually worked my a** off and just needed a chance to be able to go places. Yeah, that ended real well. Hope she rots for it. Never saw her again after that night, so there's never been a 'why' to fill in the gaps.

Already he was starting to get irritable. The topic itself was still a very sore one, and one could hear the beginnings of a full blown angry rant developing. He caught himself, however, and managed to cool down. Finding himself at the edge of his seat, Nines forced himself to lean back and try to relax once again.

Categorically? No, because you and yours are so insanely beyond insistent that I don't think a word even exists for the depths plunged to railroad a man into a job. But if I've ever been hired by groups that were too sleazy for their own good, yes. Because deniable, expendable assets are best drawn from people who think they own you, especially when you spoon feed them propaganda about how much good they're doing. This latest freak show is the third time I've been burned by this kind of contract, mate. First two almost put me six feet under.

Again, Nines had to force himself to calm down. He was incredibly ill tempered about this sort of topic; it was far too fresh a reminder of just how bad a situation he was in here and now. He paused, forcing a deep breath to even himself out and keep from snapping at Roan for someone else's crimes.

William Barrows was the first guy. Arranged for me to learn what had happened, why the sun burned so much and the hunger wouldn't stop. He did, and he arranged the situation so I would be loyal because I thought I owed him. Guy tried to burn too many people and too many assets, and he lost control. He's dead and buried, and good ******** riddance. Other group ran into the same basic end. Both times I wound up just outside of ground zero when things went ploin-shaped.

William Barrows. Would have been convicted for racketeering if the police hadn't been in his pocket. Man was big into housecleaning for other clients; not top dog, but well connected and with deep pockets. Best I can tell, he got greedy and tried to screw some of his clients.

The temper gave way to a cold analysis of the man in question. Nines had done his homework on the guy post-mortem, and turned up some information.

The second group was never obliging enough to offer a name. Gaggle of zealots. Turned out to be satanists or some s**t like that. I see another altar like that, and you can put money that someone will magically summon about five pounds of C4 to the place.