[Johnny’s more of a big personality than a big physical presence — he might stand at 6’1”, but he’s got the build of a rockerboy. A life of too many drugs and too much to drink, late nights of partying after a gig of yelling his lungs out into a mic for a crowd that might not even listen. The look of a man who might’ve been military once upon a time, but ditched that life years ago. Sturdy, but lithe. Athletic, but could probably still be snapped in two by the house of a guy sitting at that desk across from him.
He’s definitely got the right address. Not exactly a lot of people toting around a mug like that, and Johnny tucks away the barb of feeling like he’s always being held at gunpoint for another time.
Right now, he adds to the coiling smoke of the room by taking another long drag of his cigarette, eyes casting about from beneath dark shades. He’s seen worse, actually. Seen a lot better, too. Looks like some pieces are newer than others, meaning that at least this place sees some action.
Promising? Guess he’ll see.]
Could be. [A client, he means.] Got money enough to make people like you real happy, assuming you’re any good at what you do.
[Johnny crosses over to the chair across from the desk, planting himself in it without so much of an invite. And since he can never sit like a normal human being, he makes himself comfortable: leans back, elbow on the backrest, and kicks a leg right up to rest his boot on the edge of Juzo’s desk.]
Are you? [He spreads a chrome hand in his direction.]
no subject
[Johnny’s more of a big personality than a big physical presence — he might stand at 6’1”, but he’s got the build of a rockerboy. A life of too many drugs and too much to drink, late nights of partying after a gig of yelling his lungs out into a mic for a crowd that might not even listen. The look of a man who might’ve been military once upon a time, but ditched that life years ago. Sturdy, but lithe. Athletic, but could probably still be snapped in two by the house of a guy sitting at that desk across from him.
He’s definitely got the right address. Not exactly a lot of people toting around a mug like that, and Johnny tucks away the barb of feeling like he’s always being held at gunpoint for another time.
Right now, he adds to the coiling smoke of the room by taking another long drag of his cigarette, eyes casting about from beneath dark shades. He’s seen worse, actually. Seen a lot better, too. Looks like some pieces are newer than others, meaning that at least this place sees some action.
Promising? Guess he’ll see.]
Could be. [A client, he means.] Got money enough to make people like you real happy, assuming you’re any good at what you do.
[Johnny crosses over to the chair across from the desk, planting himself in it without so much of an invite. And since he can never sit like a normal human being, he makes himself comfortable: leans back, elbow on the backrest, and kicks a leg right up to rest his boot on the edge of Juzo’s desk.]
Are you? [He spreads a chrome hand in his direction.]