[centre][h1][color=007236]Sampson Dubois[/color][/h1]
Location: Talon HQ, Los Angeles
Interacting with: Peacere[@Kaithas], whoever happens to come around.
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For a split second, Sampson’s jaw locked as his eyes locked on the metal frame, the faint buzzing of nanites in his ears.. He had read Peacere’s file, knew what he was, knew that he was on his side. He sure as hell knew it wasn’t fair to judge people on how they looked. Still, the face was a little too close to the more recent models in Siberia for his comfort, and he hadn’t lived this long by being fair. He would reserve judgement.
	
The mercenary smiled a little too broadly at the omnic, resting his hand on the Jimmy’s head. [color=007236]“I assure you, I normally keep better hours. Only got here last night, still adaptin’. You know how it is with those of us who have to sleep.”[/color] He locked eyes with the omnic, for a moment thinking about just how many models he had seen with the exact same face, same arms, same gunmetal grey armor. The exact same neutral expression, unchanging, coated in ash and blood. The sound of screaming in Russian, gunfire, shrieking metal, the smell of cooked flesh and ozone in the air. The omnic didn’t respond, studying the Sampson with his optics. He didn’t blink. Jimmy wagged his tail nervously, looking back and forth between the man and the machine.

After a pause, he sighed. His voice grew more serious as his brows met, his mouth curling into a small frown. [color=007236]“Listen. I’ve read your file, and I know you’ve seen mine. I spent a solid six years fighting in Siberia and watched a whole lotta men die. Just like I know you’ve seen your fair share buy the barn.”[/color] He crossed his arms, his mouth pulling to the side as he raised an eyebrow. [color=007236]“I have no issues with you. But your face’s real familiar, so if I jump around ya, don’t take it personally. We’re both here, we’re both professionals.”[/color] At this, a grin snuck onto his face, growing wider as he spoke. [color=007236]“More than that, I’ve read about your performance and your combat specs. Bit of a loner, but you work best in groups, ambushes, targeted strikes. You know how to set up a killzone. I can appreciate that. As is, I think we could work well together.”[/color] 

At a small nudge from a wet nose, Sampson looked down. Jimmy was staring him down, pawing at his leg and panting. The mercenary let out a short, barking laugh before turning back to Peacere. The smile had returned, genuine now. [color=007236]“Sorry, I told my buddy here we’d have a run after I get my gear. Tell you what,”[/color] he pulled a small phone from his pocket, tapping at it for a second. [color=007236]“I’m going to snag some supplies and take this one out and about for a time. I won’t stray too far from the neighborhood, but fresh air does ya good, and I’ve gotta talk to a contact here. After that though, I’m figuring out who’s in my squad and well...”[/color] He extended his hands in an exaggerated shrug, his eyes lighting up with a maniacal gleam. [color=007236]“What are your thoughts on partners?”[/color]