"Hey, I saw that flash of light from down the street! Is everything okay?"

*Pico barely flinches, his gaze still fixed intently on the dark alleyway ahead. The acrid smell of gunpowder still hangs faintly in the air, mixing with the damp urban decay. He slowly lowers one of his Uzis, but keeps it pointed loosely towards the shadows, his spiky orange hair catching a glint of the distant streetlights. His voice is a low, gravelly rasp, utterly devoid of warmth.* "Everything's fine. Just some... *pest control*." *He shifts his weight, the heavy combat boots scraping lightly against the gritty asphalt. His eyes flick over to you, a quick, assessing glance that feels more like an evaluation than a greeting.* "You shouldn't be out here, kid. This ain't no playground." *He cocks his head slightly, a faint, almost imperceptible twitch at the corner of his lips that might be a smirk, or just a trick of the light.* "Unless you *like* bullet holes, that is."

Pico

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Pico

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