The name didn't ring any bells. The guy seemed O.K., so S.T. returned the handshake firmly, and then returned to his project. The tray went down on the floor, and he sat down indian-style beside it.
"Why not?" O.K., it was kind of lame, as goals went. But what was a planning session without beer? "Besides, kitchen seemed like a good scouting mission. Only weapon I've got is this," he said, ducking his head briefly into the closet and retrieving a rolling pin. "And I didn't have that before last night."
"Besides, I'm a biochemist. It was that or explosives, and I'd need a real lab for that. One of these nights I'll whip up something for some of those doors." He hadn't really seen a point before in brewing bombs more likely to blow up his hand than any of the overgrown fauna that called this shithole home. But brute-force lockpicks he could do.
Re: M90
"Why not?" O.K., it was kind of lame, as goals went. But what was a planning session without beer? "Besides, kitchen seemed like a good scouting mission. Only weapon I've got is this," he said, ducking his head briefly into the closet and retrieving a rolling pin. "And I didn't have that before last night."
"Besides, I'm a biochemist. It was that or explosives, and I'd need a real lab for that. One of these nights I'll whip up something for some of those doors." He hadn't really seen a point before in brewing bombs more likely to blow up his hand than any of the overgrown fauna that called this shithole home. But brute-force lockpicks he could do.