Fuck yeah! Remember when you tried The Expression on that little minx in the silver jumpsuit? That was you.
Motorics
Before thought effects; other dialogue conditions may apply.
525 · Voice lines
Fuck yeah! Remember when you tried The Expression on that little minx in the silver jumpsuit? That was you.
Who does this guy think you are -- Ronnie the Rookie? You ain't worried about no lost gun or unpaid bill or forgotten name! You're the bad cop, you're probably more corrupt than him!
He looks extremely comfortable. The tiny folding chair, on the other hand, looks like a torture device.
God, you're sweating... your knee is jerking... you're about to cry, aren't you? You're about to cry, because you lost your gun and those children are going to shoot themselves with it.
He didn't actually understand what you meant and now he's just nodding along.
She hides it well, but behind the sweat and dirt there is something... else. In her rigid posture.
She's a pro. Nothing short of coming face to face with the fatman himself would make her admit it right now.
Easier said than done -- how could this pathetic mess of copy paper and plastic ever become très disco?"
Fast, observantly. Like an electronic printer.
Quickly, methodically, like an electric printing machine.
It truly isn't. She controls herself very well.
Not even a flinch. That must take willpower. Yet below it, some little crack starts running in the foundation.
Her arms fall to her sides, her spine relaxes.
Keeping her calm, perfect posture. Her eyes move across the muzzle keenly.