@scythed-
“No prob,” Gideon replied, lifting a shoulder in a shrug. Shadows and highlights from the face paint she normally wore had stained her face, creating dark hollows around her eyes and temples and making her cheekbones and forehead whiter than usual in a faded, macabre imprint of a death’s head. Having spent the majority of her life in an underground tomb on a near-abandoned space station, Gideon was already rather pale to begin with. Not as pale as Harrow, though. Hah. “Happy to help, I guess?” Yeah, kinda. Harrow would have her head for talking to someone but quite frankly, Harrow could go choke on a dick.
“Superiors?” Gideon asked, looking at the guy through smoky tinted shades, a spidery crack running through one of the lenses. The cavalier wore black robes, open at the front to reveal a muscle tee and pants of the same color - it complemented her, somehow, even though she hated wearing them. Gideon couldn’t move as quickly in robes, couldn’t react as fast with the sunglasses on her nose, dimming her vision. But without them she would have been blinded here; in the Ninth House, where she had been raised, sunlight had been a weak, watery thing that was absent for the most part of the day. Hence the shades . Gideon rather thought they made her look hot. Hotter. “Who do you work for?”
