“You need new armor.”
He says one day, stopping by her room without knocking nor announcing himself in any way beyond that, arms folded across his chest and eyes narrowed.
It seems he cares enough about her to be fed up with the current state of what is supposed to be protective. At least that genetically modified woman’s armor was not trying to come across that way, it was rather form-fitting, after all.
But Samara’s armor.. Is most definitely not spandex, and is most definitely not acceptable.














