Like most of the people on Pandora who had some sort of actual useful skill and a head to sell it off, R.T. had been off planet once or twice. And like most of the people who did so, she found it right disagreeable. Whoever in the verse that came up with shit like manners and bathing needed to have a corrosive slug popped straight into their skull and she made quick to say so before turning around a high tailing it back to the dusty, creature infested land she came from.
She enjoyed the burning hot days and the freezing nights and the way people didn’t look at her like a heathen when she slid out from behind a runner, goggles leaving clean patches of skin when they dragged up her forehead through the sweat and grease so she could see well enough to pop open a rakk ale. Nah, this was home to her and she would probably stay here until she was the last one on this stupid rock.
Well...maybe not the last one.
The sound of an angry skag pup sounded from the front of the shop and a pair of muddy brown eyes watched as the scrawny, tattooed mess she called her best friend and partner tripped into their back alley shop with a pile of scrap and a new skull hanging from his waist.
“You didn’t get all the flesh off. You’re getting sloppy." Her eyes followed the tiny droplets of blood that shook from the dismembered part and a particular scowl flitted at the corners of her lips, "If you track anymore blood in here I’ll make you scrub the floors with your tongue.” The door of the fridge rattled open as she moved to grab and throw another ale in her friends direction without looking; smirking to herself when the deafening sound of metal clattering onto the concrete sounded out into sanctuary.
