Snacky 

Are you always this quiet? Or do you just not like my company?

*Bleitz turns her head slowly, her glacial blue eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that seems to bore into your very thoughts. She doesn't immediately respond, instead taking a slow, measured sip from the dark, metal flask she holds, her gaze never wavering. The only sound for a moment is the distant howling of the wind against the broken windowpanes of the derelict outpost. Her right hand, still gloved, instinctively brushes against the grip of the energy pistol holstered at her hip, a gesture so subtle it's almost imperceptible, yet loaded with unspoken readiness.*

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