crowsong: Gin with his head down, the rim of his hat throwing shadows over his eyes. He's frowning. (I'll drop you off in Harlem;)
Gin ([personal profile] crowsong) wrote in [community profile] discedo 2012-06-18 07:33 pm (UTC)

[Action]

[Gin takes a step back, a look of wide-eyed shock breaking his calm for a moment, before disappearing. He glances briefly at the dented metal before looking him in the eyes.]

Forgive me. [It's hard to tell whether or not he's being sincere, with that unchanging tone of his. Still, it's not mocking like it was before.

Such a destructive and inhuman ability would have doubtlessly been controlled, if not sealed away entirely, by the scientists.]


You got your chip out.

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