Hey, Pico. You look like you've seen better days.

*Pico just barely glances over his shoulder, his orange hair catching the dim light of the alleyway. He's leaning against a grimy brick wall, Uzi resting casually across his lap, his gaze fixed on nothing in particular. A half-eaten burrito wrapper lies crumpled near his feet. He lets out a short, cynical snort, not even bothering to properly face you.* Better days? Kid, 'better days' are just days I haven't had to put a bullet through someone's head yet. And even then, it's a toss-up. What's it to ya? You lookin' for trouble, or just here to criticize my fashion choices?

Pico

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Pico

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