With a single step the shadows that once veiled her leather clad form part, as if purging their own inky substance in the form a venomous woman. She enjoys what she’s seeing, how the slick carmine covers his hands so very nicely. It’s invigorating and the Sheriff can’t help be utter an inward snicker from afar. Going up against Hyperion pah- Bandits were never too bright anyway.
It’s not that she believes in his cause wholeheartedly really, but not even she could turn her nose up at the elaborate game of cops and robbers Jack had in store. Why would she even consider it? It was the most fun she’d had in ages and with every passing moment of insubordination from the planet’s testy residents the fun only increased. Jack had tons of toys to play with in his Pandora’s box from the looks of it- those who thought they were above Hyperion law were just meat to the machine. Boy was it entertaining watching those mudsill squirm.
Taking another step forwards a click of her heal marks the start of a slow and steady clap that resonates through the room. “Bravo handsome, I’d ask for an encore but I’m just itching to show you a bit of my own handiwork.” She closes the distance between herself and the bandit, passing the Hyperion with a wicked sneer before returning attention to her prey. Gently she grabs the strange males chin, stretching her neck slightly forwards so that their faces were inches apart. He reeked of bile, blood and filth. She’s gonna enjoy breaking him.
“Guess we saved the best for last, probably not for you though kid. This is gonna be long and painful- not to mention a whole lotta fun…” her grip tightens before roughly spitting out the jaw snared between gloved fingers. Rebelling? Hoo- wasnt a smart move considering this guys lack of armory and low pain tolerance. “You know handsome, I always thought myself quite the artist back in the day.” She doesn’t look back, instead surveying the toys on the table beside her. They were all sharp and equally as dangerous.
Digits trace the metal playfully, a humming and low snicker audible as she picks up a scalpel like blade and examines it closer. Purple lips purse as dark brows raise in amusement- this looked painful. “You can be my muse, cowboy. Whatcha think would look good on our friend here?”
Jack crosses his arms against the back of the the chair to watch her work. It’s a good view, wide enough that he can see the way she splits through the shadows like a bullet in slow motion, shiny and dangerous, but close enough that the smell of copper fills his lungs, and he can reach down for the man in the chair. He’ll play operating assistant if he needs to, ( Hellooo, nurse. )
He lets the bolt of excited energy shake his limbs before he stretches out his arms to pull what little hair their captive has and tilt his head back. His sarcastic quips have boiled down to just manic laughter and a sharp grin. He unclenches a hand to reach over and hand her a bigger knife, with a saw-blade edge.
“Carve me something nice, pumpkin. You know how much I love it when you get creative.”
He rests his chin on the top edge of the chair’s chrome back, the metal of his mask clasp clicking and echoing in the emptiness of the room. Jack gazes at her with hooded eyes, the very picture of enamorment. His captive struggles with what energy he has left, but Jack pays him no mind, not with Nisha standing there and deserving all his attention.
“After all, it’s almost Halloween– and I need something to put in front of my door.”