Thread: The Lady and the Wolf - Penitency x Praxis

God damnit ... Ethan cantankerously muttered under his breath after being refused entry by the hovercraft's onboard AI. Stepping back from the door, the muscular brute raised a glove covered hand beside his head to tap his ear piece with index and middle finger. Rachel didn't answer his com's pings. Again, the young girl was toying with a cold blooded killer, and yet, he didn't ever dare get his revenge. He knew his place. Rachel technically did outrank him under the Department's line of command. She was his handler... his overseer. Ethan was merely an attack dog that did her and the law's bidding. A deep and irritated sigh spilled loudly from between his covered lips under the material of his shemagh. Brown eyes, with radiant blots of green in between, shifted off to his right as he brooded internally before the threshold of the craft. Loudly, the errant winds outside whipped past him and kicked the tail end of his trench coat into a frenzy. Luckily for him, the googles and cloth about his face, along with the rebreather, saved him from inhaling the particles that were slowly killing or mutating the scavengers out here. Fuck . You. Ethan stepped forwards and pounded the door with his fist again, only to get the monotone response of the onboard AI. Again, it repeated to him about compliance, as if coaxing him into uttering the correct phrase. OKAY! Plea Before he could finish, the sealed bay door began to hiss. As it slid aside, the Templar stepped in with the heavy thud of his boots, and the whistle of the wind. It called out in a sharp howl through the craft, as if beckoning the murderer back out into the Blight where he belonged. Before she set course, Ethan pivoted on the heel of his boot and jammed the close button on the door's terminal. Again, it hissed to life as the reinforced steel rushed to the opposite end and formed a air-tight seal for fast travel. Hearing her words from the elevated cockpit, Ethan turned his head toward his mountainous shoulder to look at the back of her seat as he pulled his face wrap off, and then followed that with his rebreather. Taking a deep breath naturally through his nose, he casually tossed the rebreather into the locker near the bay door. Their supplies and weapons were all stashed there. I never said you were a pain... Ethan teased her sarcastically as a growing, tugging grin began to take hold of his sharp facial lines. He had a stout jaw which was lined with stubble and pronounced cheeks. His light brown hair was kept neatly combed to one side, with errant bangs brushing over the front of his forehead. As dirty of a world he just came from, the man still didn't look half bad. There were just some smudges across the bridge of his nose and such, further highlighting his scar there. I wouldn't say that about my handler. He smirked under his breath as he began to pull down the trench coat he wore across those chiseled and defined arms. From her position in the cockpit, she could see his rigid and broad back facing her. Ethan's pronounced shoulder blades rippled against the material of his shirt as he led his trench down to his lower back and slipped it from his hands. Why the fuck is the interior so damn hot? Is our condenser broke again!? It was hard not to stand there and stare at his handler. Rachel had the body to die for, and she often used those big tits of hers as a weapon against other men... and yet, she hadn't been as successful with her attack dog. You try wrestling with a three hundred pound scav down there. You'll smell like him almost immediately... Ethan said with disgust as he grabbed the bottom of his shirt and began to peel upwards. This first exposed his absolutely defined and lined six-pack, which was surrounded by the v-cuts of his hips at either end, and the lined ribs of his oblique muscles. As his colossal arms lifted higher, his ribs and pectorals could be seen stretched out, along with the bulk of those mountainous shoulders. Scars from the past lined his back in old wounds. Tossing the shirt into the locker, along with the holster strapped to his thigh, the man stepped under a small shower head in the corner of the ship's belly. In sight of her, he slapped the shower head's knob and luke warm water stored on the ship began to pour down his hard frame... much like someone taking a quick rinse at the beach, he ran both hands over his head as he spoke above the sound of water pattering across the floor, I am sure your father would be proud... hearing you talk like that about the Blight and it's dying people. Both of his hands began to work the button of his soaked jeans now as he stood beneath the rain the water coming off of him was pitch black, flowing into a small drain at his feet.