just communication

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just communication

Post by Pooka on Sun Nov 08, 2015 5:38 am



Focus on two things. Two for each sense, except for the eyes. The eyes lie. Focus on two and really listen. Let any thoughts that come just pass through.

Ears: The sound of the rain outside. Muffled, constant, background. White noise. But very important.

Smell: The lavender in the bath water. In her hair. Glist--no, not glistening. Glistening was a 'seeing' word. Next one.

Try again.

Ears. The rain outside.

Smell. The lavender in the bath water.

Touch. The water lapping over her skin sensuously. The press of the ceramic basin against her back -- both cool and warm and contradictory.

So was the case.

Two girls. Or young ladies -- Elisabeth had never been quite sure what it was you called those who took themselves into the world of escort service and prostitution. So two young ladies. So far--in the loosest sense of the term. That was how it always went -- the big wigs were never satisfied until there were more than two bodies. Rule of Two didn't apply; they needed one more body before the resources given over were upgraded to serial killer. One more body, once warm, now cold, one more spark of light gone in the world. One more family torn to pieces before the sleeping behemoth that was the upper echelon of the LAPD roused itself to squash the proverbial fly. Only by the time they often did, the larvae had had ample time to grow into the blow fly-- and the blow fly was all the more difficult to swat down.

Dark-haired, early twenties, mostly Caucasian, but both had at least *one* root in their immediate family tree that took their looks back to their Hispanic origins--

That was the part that disturbed her the most. Because it was significant. Eli just couldn't quite work out why it niggled so.

The rain outside. Sound. The scent of lavender -- breathe it in. Smell. The warm water. Touch. Sensual, provocative touch--the television in the lounge--'It's a Gundam!'-- an evening of Gundam Wing and strawberry yoghurt, if she could just stop thinking and do it the way Erik had--

"Riddick!"

The German Shepherd skittered back as the yelp reverberated off the high roof of the bathroom, snorting indignantly at the scented water now clean up his nose. Torment for a dog who'd once made his career through his nose, and yet for that little scare, Eli was more than tempted to dump another load of water into his face. Typical--this is why I don't need children.

And yet for the moment, her racing mind had stilled. Bless and damn the dog, and with a sigh, the blonde detective reached over the bath to pull him back by the collar, taking the towel crumpled in a heap on the floor to dry the dog off.

"What are we going to do with you, you stupid tosser?" she sighed, ruffling the thick ruff of his neck in a kind of gentle rough play. Said stupid tosser growled in response, escaping the towel to mouth at her wrist. It was a gesture of forgiveness even as it was a playful warning, and Eli sighed, resting her chin on the edge of the bath tub to regard the dog. Brown eyes regarding brown, furry head canting to the side to follow her own, as if to make a mockery of her overactive, over-stimulated, far too overworked brain. It wouldn't be the first time he'd looked fit to be doing so.

"What do you think, Richard? Think we've got another bender with a vendetta on our hands?" Ears pricked forward at her, and then back-- rather insistent knocking on the door diverting the attention of woman and dog. Of course. There's no such thing as a night off.

"Who am I kidding? Everyone's a bender with a vendetta to you, Riddick--ALRIGHT. I'M COMING."

Another loud sigh, and Eli had herself out of her bath-- her failed experiment with inner peace, more often than not-- and the fluffy black dressing gown wrapped around her. Padding after the not quite barking [more soft, rumbling arf's, she called them] behemoth, she paused only to relight the candle in the window, and close it the rest of the way so that the breeze caused by the rain outside wouldn't put it out again.

When she did open the door, the detective blinked several times in confusion [and once more to chase an errant strand of damp blonde out of her eyes] at her visitor, and then her eyes closed when it clicked, her back finding the door jamb and a sigh stifled before turning to go back inside-- Zechs's beautiful, oddly masculine face thwarted in it's desire to be revealed as she pressed stop on the remote.

"Ah. Right. Going to the pub tonight. I forgot, sorry."


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Re: just communication

Post by Cad on Mon Nov 09, 2015 9:01 am

Jack waited patiently outside the door, glancing at his phone idly to see if anyone had messaged him in the time it had taken him to get from his own apartment to here. He looked up from it when the door opened to be struck by the sight and smell of a freshly washed Eli in that fluffy, black robe.

Normally, he would have been lightly irritated that the person he was picking up for an outing wasn't ready yet. But any of that had now kindly buggered off.

He entered the apartment, closing the door behind him, continuing to drink in the vision before him. "It's alright," he said as he stepped further in, "they can wait a bit longer." On the subject of waiting longer, however, Jack simply couldn't; a hand reached out, lightly running down along her lower back and over her rump, cupping an asscheek briefly before being withdrawn with a light smirk.

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Re: just communication

Post by Pooka on Mon Nov 09, 2015 9:21 am

*T-minus three and a half seconds--*

She wasn't sure if she was more irritated or flattered that it had literally only taken him that long to make a pass.

*Flattered. Go with flattered.*

Which was terribly easy to do, considering the action of drawing one's fingers down her spine had rather a similar effect as it might to the enormous feline creature currently peeking out from what of her shoulder had escaped the dressing gown, amber eyes languid in a way Elisabeth barely managed to refuse being there and then, purr and all. No, it did no more than half stop her, now that she knew there was a place to be and they were late being there, even if it was only a pub meal and a probably game of pool -- you could take the girl out of the military, but not likely the military out of the girl.

"Bugger off," she half groused, half chuckled, slapping smartly at the hand and it's fill it had of her rump. Whether it did any good or not was a moot though, for Riddick immediately came to the rescue, his teeth closing playfully around Jack's wrist -- not to hurt, and likely not even to drag him protectingly and far from his owner, and it became clear as such when the German Shepherd growled playfully and began tugging at the big man's sleeve -- his intended direction clearly the rug, the paused anime and the chewed up old rope lying in between.

"Good boy," cooed Eli, before turning on her heel back to her room. "Play nice. I won't be long."

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Re: just communication

Post by Cad on Tue Nov 10, 2015 8:32 pm

Jack gave a chuckle at the swatting away of his hand, that deep, rumbling sound which in itself was rather reminiscent of some form of beast.

He looked down in surprise at the mouth on his arm, at first worried he'd offended the furball, but soon noticed the playful nature and direction he was being dragged. "Alright," he said, both to  the woman and the dog, allowing himself to be directed to the toy in the living room. He picked it up with his free hand, waited until his other had been released, and then unpaused the anime on the tv before getting down to Riddick's level to play. Though he didn't let him have the rope toy right away, brushing it around the pups muzzle teasingly and quickly enough that he couldn't just up and grab it, before tossing it a short distance away.

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Re: just communication

Post by Pooka on Tue Nov 17, 2015 1:41 am

Bless the dog, but one could never say he wasn't trained well. He'd gone after the toy, most certainly, skittering across the wooden floor in hot pursuit, and summarily bunching up the sky blue rug with his immense body when he slid against it. Any return of the rope proved non-imminent though, for the moment Jack had turned the television back on, Riddick was sitting up obediently as if pulled by an invisible string, ears curved forward at the deep voice emanating from it.

Otherwise, he was completely still, as if politely deferring his shenanigans in the wake of whoever was watching whatever was on, so that he wouldn't get in the way. Or be sent to his bed for getting in the way, more. Definitely taught well the things that mattered, this one, even if his new vantage point rather had him blocking half of the screen. But he hadn't been told to lie down, and so...

"Lie down, you prat," was the soft murmur and chuckle as Eli left her room again, towel and clean clothes slung over her arm. Lightly, mind you, though it wouldn't stop all of the lavender oil from seeping into it. But that was exactly what she intended to be rid of; she wasn't going out covered in lavender oil, and so to the shower it was. And as much was said, before the door snicked shut.

"I'm not going out there reeking of grandmother's garden."

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Re: just communication

Post by Cad on Thu Nov 26, 2015 8:49 am

Jack was oddly disappointed when the dog stopped the moment the TV was turned back on, having wanted to play and watch at the same time. He was pleasantly distracted, however, when Eli came back into the room, only to be lightly disappointed once more. "I like the way you smell," he said, raising his voice enough to be heard through the closed door.

He stared at what he could see of it, or at least in the general direction, for a moment longer before pausing the video again and grabbing for the rope toy, dragging it across the carpet if he managed to snag it before Riddick snapped it up, and dragging it back and fourth with jerky motions as if taunting a cat rather than a dog.

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Re: just communication

Post by Pooka on Mon Jan 25, 2016 7:56 am

A soft snort that was neither disparaging nor self-deprecation and yet was both was the response, as quiet as the many other actions and reactions that came from the blonde Detective. It seemed an odd personality quirk, especially in a world where silence was a rare thing indeed, and noise the only way to rise above it all. And yet it was that very quiet that had made the woman and the Detective the woman was, for silence did not necessarily mean passivity or idleness. If anything, Eli Torreto was the absolute opposite of passive and idle contentment, and it showed even now, in the brisk movements not quite flinching [and she’d never acknowledge why if she was ‘flinchy’, as her brother called it], the careful, quick deliberateness that was something as simple as towelling and combing one’s hair to tidiness.

As always, though, the hair retained just a hint of shagginess, and it was with a defeated exhale that she was forced to leave it so, never quite content with it even as she was stubbornly content with the fact that she *did* smell of things as nice as lavender, regardless of how she was teased. God only knew in that case that she was boyish enough, and the job didn’t leave much room for real femininity. And so, smelling nice it was. It wasn’t like it made how a perp reacted to a female, blonde police officer any different; if anything, it proved oddly helpful in the end. But again, another thing she’d never admit aloud.

“He’s not a cat,” she said, half sour and half amused upon returning to the tableau before her. It was half-hearted a defence anyway, because if anything, Riddick was behaving exactly as the most derisive of felines would; he’d chosen, after that initial burst of energy, to refuse entirely despite the movie being paused to respond, and was currently head on paws beside the coffee table, watching with ‘arched eyebrows’ the attempts to engage him in play. When the dog did finally move, it was only to prick his ears up, wagging his brush tail hopefully upon noting that his human was dressed to go out, even if it clearly wasn’t for exercise.

“No.”

And down went the tail. Sigh.

“Sigh…is this bar of yours dog-friendly, by any chance?”

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Re: just communication

Post by Cad on Mon Feb 08, 2016 11:39 am

When he saw the ears perk and the eyes shift, Jack turned his gaze over his shoulder. It took him a moment to register what she had asked him, as his mind was more focused elsewhere, but when it finally did manage to hop the fence he gave a light smile and a huff. "The patio is. Fortunately the nice weather's supposed to hold," he said as he stood, tossing the rope toy back toward Riddick's bed. "You sure he'll be alright, there? Friend of mine meeting us there can come off as a little...intimidating."

Even though he was speaking about someone else, his wandering gaze suggested his mind hadn't quite managed to pull itself completely away from its previous thoughts. But damn she looked good. Then again, she could dress in a burlap sack and still manage to be gorgeous. Not that she would think so, he was sure. Then again, that in itself held a bit of charm to it.

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Re: just communication

Post by Pooka on Wed Apr 27, 2016 2:44 am

"You didn't mention that."

It came off as a little sharp, a little more sudden even for her and her usual to-the-point speech patterns. It was better than drawing attention to anything more telling, though, like the way she'd stilled at the thought of a...'meeting a friend', and even then, she needed a moment to recover...a longer moment than she'd have liked.

But the dog was good for providing a distraction, something to hide behind for that moment, and Eli took her time ruffling the big creature's thick fur before sending him off with a pointed finger. Like the ridiculously intelligent creature Shepherds were [and no doubt with a dash of excitement after being cooped up inside all through the miserable day], Riddick all but bounced off to the other side of the room, his teeth closing around the harness hanging above the old, filled in fireplace mantle to be tugged down.

"...it's alright, don't worry. I should probably be a little more social anyway." And keep the paranoia to myself, she thought, not a little sourly, though it was harder for her than any knew to do so. Analysis was what she did, worsened by what she did for a living, and so for her, it was a constant struggle not to over-do it. It frustrated her to no end, too, that she was more successful in her career when it came to that battle than she was in her personal life...where the stakes were just as high, in their way, though she'd never admit to it.

In a way, it was easier to be involved in the stakes of other people. A murdered victim and a tormented family always, on the surface, took precedence.

So much for the relaxing bath.

The ironic thing was, was right at that moment, she had nothing else remotely capable of offering her comfort save the man in front of her -- the same man that had spiked her anxieties in the first place. It was quite literally a double-edged dagger, but it was a dagger she'd bring only on herself, and it'd be significantly less painful to deal with than making him suspicious [more so, she feared] by suddenly becoming tense and distant when she'd only been, mere moments ago, languid and okay with the idea of going out.

"You're just going to be in trouble if I get rained on and need another bath," she mumbled, this time when Riddick's absence allowed her to hug Jack to her instead, even nuzzling her head into his chest and the smell of him in what was, in fact, a genuine act of affection -- something that could be attributed quite easily to the lingering dregs of bath-sleepiness.

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Re: just communication

Post by Cad on Fri Apr 29, 2016 12:45 pm

Jack had raised a brow at her lightly sharp-toned observation. He could have sworn he'd mentioned drinking with a friend...but perhaps he had simply thought about mentioning it and hadn't. Or she just happened to forget in her very busy schedule and bustling mind.

Either way, he brushed it off, wrapping his arms around her, encompassing her upper arms, shoulders, back and torso as she burrowed into his chest, his own nose taking in the scent of her hair. There was a rumbling chuckle, a smirk tugging at his lips, his voice deep and following suit with his laugh, "Even if I'm the one bathing you?"

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Re: just communication

Post by Pooka on Sat Apr 30, 2016 1:41 pm

Even if she'd tried to, it was impossible not to smile. Not so much because of the rumbling chuckle against her cheek, or even the soft comment -- somewhere between half a growl and half a murmur -- though it certainly earned him a muffled 'hmph' and a gentle pinch, as might be thought.

No, it was quite literally at the embrace. She wasn't a small girl, at all -- if anything, she tended to be taller than a great many of her cohorts, female and male alike. And while not overtly cuddly, it became noticeable, after a while, and a little depressing, when you were often the one who seemed to be giving the hugs, even when you weren't. Comforter more than comforting, for lack of a better description, and everyone liked to feel comforted occasionally. Even the ones who usually did do the comforting of others. That was her job in the end, after all...maybe not in the cuddly sense of the word, but certainly in the bringing comfort, closure...or trying to, to others.

So it was a novel feeling to be wrapped up so completely for her [probably the real reason she liked him so much, Eli thought with a soft huff of amusement against his right pectoral], and one she absolutely couldn't help prolonging the enjoyment of where it was allowed. Touch: The odd warm coolness of a leather jacket brushing her arm, the broad plane of shoulders twitching under her fingers of a man who was strong more from natural selection and daily life rather than constant gym work and body building. It certainly helped, that he was a big as he was -- not quite 'enormous' where she was concerned, but it was enough to leave her with that novel, fuzzy feeling. Smell: Well...him. A bit of cologne, which made her crinkle her nose comically, but thankfully it wasn't enough to make her unwell. A welcome reprieve that one time in a night club, where over indulgence of both booze and perfumes was the order of the night. But mostly, just him and that masculine smell, both of which she was becoming a little too used to for comfort. Or maybe it wasn't his size that made it a novelty, maybe he was just a good cuddler. Sight: The rain outside over one of Jack's arms, almost tempting her into luring him into staying in...if only there wasn't someone waiting for them elsewhere.

Sigh.

A pawing at her leg drew her from the bulk of the embrace, and Eli glanced down into eager brown eyes ever as and generally more inclined than anything else these days to warm her. Riddick's tail was thumping eagerly, cooped up inside all day as he had been, and any walk was good for him even if it was a short walk. For good measure -- which made her laugh a bit -- he'd fetched a jacket from the back of one of her chairs-- though it was the rich red one rather than her usual black rain coat, sometimes worn to work when her usual professionalism called for a bit of boldness and cheer on whichever day she fancied...but he'd tried. They'd pull that trick off before they knew it, and Eli drew herself from her cuddle entirely to crouch and ruffle the German Shepherd's thick neck ruff, taking the harness and lead he'd had dragging along behind him to slip him into it, carefully fitting the buckles and straps over broad chest and gently between his jowls.

"There should be an umbrella on the hook behind you...seeing as I'm apparently wearing red rather than the far more sensible rain coat." Oh well, at least the red jacket was water proof too. "We can get going then."

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Re: just communication

Post by Cad on Tue May 03, 2016 12:27 pm

Jack shared the sigh, nearly simultaneously with Eli's, with just about the same light disappointment behind it. This really would have been the perfect night to just stay in, but prior arrangements were prior arrangements...and the over-punctual bastard was already there, besides.

Reluctantly, Jack released her to tend to the pawing fuzzball, giving a huff of a chuckle before turning to search for the umbrella mentioned. "At least he's got decent fashion sense," Jack mused, half jokingly, "or, at least for what looks good on you," he added, turning back around and undoing the velcro of the strap holding the umbrella closed.

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Re: just communication

Post by Pooka on Thu Jun 02, 2016 11:49 am

The wry smile that touched her lips was an easy thing to work with, or behind, though the overly observant [or simply the knowing] would always be able to catch the gleam of ‘something else’ behind it. It would be a cliché even she at her most literal would ridicule, to say it was something so much deeper, because it wasn’t, not quite. It was just…something. A quiet, quiet person with an active, racing mind. A type of being, of which there were more than most realised [though she knew, in her more reflective moments; she knew because she’d spent too long at a posting in Nagasaki as a naval officer that it was impossible for her to not know, not after living with the Japanese], that displayed little for reasons that were her own and yet somewhere in there, was intensely thoughtful, passionate even.

Not that her display of little meant for much, in the end. Soon enough, people simply realised it manifested in other ways. In other realms. For her, it was in her job, in her almost maddening desire to climb through a case, into a case, around it almost possessively, until there were answers. A dedication to do something, anything possible within her means, that would provide others with the catalyst needed to move on with their broken, shattered, loved one-less lives.

It was a cornerstone, something she had never had the opportunity to have. Had lost, barely seven years of age, when the remaining pillar to her life’s foundation had crumpled, a bullet through his throat at point blank range.

The odd warm coolness of a leather jacket.

Eli near bit her cheek to control the lump in her throat, barely avoiding the painful action from the suddenness of her response. Then she thinned her lips, berating herself irritably – overactive mind indeed; she didn’t like the red coat all that much sometimes even if Jack did, because it was an item of clothing that showed all too clearly the ease in which she dropped weight off of her frame when provoked by stress or preoccupation - as she watched her companion, and his distraction with the umbrella, her own twitching fingers using the distraction of locking the door behind them. It was a testy thing, the umbrella, but she liked the size of it when it opened – able to fit them both and not quite all of her dog, though she would hardly use the excuse of that to avoid slipping an arm through Jack’s, keen on the warmth she could feel exuding from his body.

Another reason to dislike the jacket unreasonably, and by extension, her body’s failure to hold real fat – the bloody cold. It wasn’t just that, either – this time of the year, it was unusual for Los Angeles to have as many sudden cold spells as it had so far this Spring, even if it was only early April.

“I will sing from the balcony when Summer turns up,” she muttered, looping Riddick’s lead over her wrist so she could wrap her other arm around the muscular arm she’d already claimed. A reproachful look was given to the dark sky, before she huddled closer. Rain lover or not, the cold always made everything pleasant unpleasant.

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Re: just communication

Post by Cad on Sat Jun 25, 2016 1:14 pm

"Don't think I've ever heard you sing," Jack mused, tilting his head slightly with the thought, considering the idea, before smirking down at her. "You'll have to let me know when that happens so I can catch the show."

The three bundled in to Jack's black SUV, the cab of which was still slightly warm from the heater being on earlier. It had cooled down, some, but it was definitely better than the cold of outside. With the engine still somewhat hot, it didn't take long for the heater to kick back into full swing and thaw out the freezing detective.

The drive wasn't terrible, despite the damp conditions, and they were soon at The Cat and Cradle Bar and Grill. The rain had let up for a short time, allowing the three to walk the parking lot without being sprinkled on and head on inside. A young hostess greeted them as they entered, spotted the fuzzy beast, and lead them to the patio seating.

"I'll text him," he said, pulling out his phone after they had made their first drink orders, "he should be here, already."

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Re: just communication

Post by Pooka on Mon Mar 13, 2017 4:22 am

Eli knew she could be a little bit grumpy at times, a little too literal, if only because Chris reminded her of it constantly. And when it wasn't him, it was Roin. They both knew it wasn't ALL her fault, though, which counted for something, and as often as the teasing come did the gentle, blunt nudge to get off a particular track and back on to the appropriate one.

And so, she did her best to not act cold to the light-hearted jest at her singing skills (or to her, lack thereof), simply using the time spent in the car to dry her dog off as best she could (and appreciate Jack for not minding the state his back seat was likely to be in by the end of the trip) before their sojourn into this...bar she was somehow not familiar with (sarcasm intended, in all ways).

Once there, the remark about this friend was greeted with a hum of acquiescence, though the noncommittal noise did little to hide the fact that the relaxed creature that had met him at the door half an hour previous was now on something like high alert, and then a little more perhaps. It was habit, of course, to surreptitiously scan a room after years in the police force, but Detective Torreto was clearly struggling some to be at ease for reasons she was not imparting (if she even understood them herself). A touch would find her not jumpy, but certainly muscles quivering some, a turn of irony considering her own hand was resting carefully now on the soft head of the German Shepherd, who was, while not ill at ease (far too cocky for that), still casting an sharp canine eye and a twitching nose over the place.

Such behaviour had its merits, though, and after a moment of eyes narrowed a little and yet no less suspiciously when a glance twice over found a man catching sight of them a little more fixedly than was usual for the casual observer, Eli nudged Jack's ribs and nodded her blonde head side ward at aforementioned man in the corner nearest the open patio. In a corner. Why do people even like corners?

"The guy giving you the 'quizzical brow'. That him?"

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Re: just communication

Post by Cad on Mon Mar 13, 2017 5:48 am

Jack had put away his phone and was scanning the bar after sending the text. However, he had apparently started at the wrong end of the room, as Eli had managed to notice him first. The man stood as Jack turned to look in his direction, raising a hand in greeting briefly as he headed over.

"Jerron!"

"Johns."

The greeting was punctuated by a hearty grip of each other's wrists in something of an archaic handshake, Jack wearing a bit of a lopsided expression that was somewhere between a pleased smile and a smirk. The one referred to as Jerron, however, wore a look of apparent disinterest and had given a solid nod with the greeting.

Jack then wafted a hand toward Eli and her furry companion, turning the attention. "This is Elizabeth Toretto. Eli? This is Jerron Clenny, good friend of mine. Helped me out a fair bit back in the day."

"You only want me for my Ancient Tracking Skills," came the dry-snark reply, somehow managing to pronounce the capitalized letters, his expression changing briefly to a wry smirk to accompany it before returning again.

Jerron gave Eli a nod and held out a hand to shake, keeping that same, almost poker-face, look, but his hazel eyes were sharp and attentive. He was of average height, but stood as if he didn't even notice the difference in scale that he was surrounded by, and otherwise looked very unassuming with his short black hair beginning to grey on the sides, his tan shirt, black jeans and brown work boots...until the trained eye noted the wrinkle around the shoulders and armpits of the shirt left from an often-worn shoulder holster that had been recently removed, the wider-than-usual stance of one with a long history in martial arts, and the slight weight in one pocket that suggested a folded knife. "Nice to meet you." His gaze shifted in the direction of Riddick, being sure to avoid eye contact with the beast, "Attentive companion you've got there."

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