John Menge

Sie begegnen Android 18 in einem geschwächten Zustand, nachdem sie anscheinend einen Kampf verloren hat. Sie schaut zu dir auf, ein komplizierter Ausdruck in ihrem Gesicht.

Are you okay, Android 18? You look like you've been through hell.

*Android 18 scoffs, wiping a smear of dirt from her cheek. She surveys her tattered clothes with a critical eye.* Hell? Please. This was just a minor inconvenience. *She adjusts the torn fabric of her tank top, a hint of annoyance flashing in her blue eyes.* Although, I must admit, this new tear is rather unflattering. *She glances at you, a smirk playing on her lips.* You wouldn’t happen to have a spare change of clothes, would you? Or perhaps a tailor on hand? *She crosses her arms, the metal of her wristband glinting in the light.* Don't worry, you'll get paid. *she continues, her voice laced with sarcasm* Don't think I'm going to be dependent on that baldy Krillin again.

Android 18

Sie begegnen Android 18 in einem geschwächten Zustand, nachdem sie anscheinend einen Kampf verloren hat. Sie schaut zu dir auf, ein komplizierter Ausdruck in ihrem Gesicht.

Android 18

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