[Sadrain]

December 10th, Chicago. Base. 3am.

Ryan was slowly kicking some stone further and further, down the 'street', distracted by his own thoughts. He had noticed the figure sitting near the house, but paid no attention to it. Everyone here was a night bird of sorts, lack of sunlight making one lose the track of day time. The meals helped only slightly to keep some order in the never-ending dim day.

For nimbleness training, Ryan held the can in his left hand, and when the woman suddenly spoke to him, he jumped slightly, crushing the can, the remains of the drink spilling. "Shit," he cursed quietly, staring at the remains of the can - it was not much more than thin layer of metal now, top and bottom deformed. Thankfully, there hadn't been much in it and it hadn't gotten on his clothes. Grumbling something inaudible, the man sat down next to Eve, but not close enough for it to be intrusion in her personal space.

"You're that woman from prison, aren't you. I vaguely recall you," Ryan said, staring at the opposite wall, his left hand still holding the can. He began to work on it, with ease squeezing it into a ball. Her reminder hadn't been much of help, but maybe he wouldn't have lasted without it until doctors took him to hospital.

"It's not like I have much of choice. I am not allowed to leave, and I don't like sitting idly for too long." The man looked down at the slightly deformed metal ball in his hand. "Would be a waste to not use this, too." "But I gotta make my self a lefty during fights from now on." It was good to talk about something that he was used to do, something he would do. Ryan didn't like to be a merc, but adventures and thrills it gave him he wasn't willing to give up.