Aría

A manic grin is still plastered on my face as I pull the triggers for the last time, the final wave of zombies either bashed, sniped or shot to oblivion. Takes me a moment to unravel the ork's rather heavy accent, but as I figure out what he's saying, my smile grows even wider. Isn't it a little ironic that I'm smiling more during a zombie apocalypse than in normal life? I chuckle a bit and pat the big guy on the arm in lieu of his too-high-up head. 

"Now you're speaking my language, man. Let's see what kind of dakka you got."

The guy lights up a cigar. And here I was thinking that he couldn't be any more badass. I load my clips up again, frowning. Only a couple dozen spare bullets left; I desperately need a restock. Good thing, then, that this guy appears to be an expert in the dakka arts. Plus I won't have to deal with an Elvhen. Pretentious killer fucks...Anyway, the clips go back into my guns and a loud [i]clack[/i] echoes off the rooftops twice in succession as I cock them. The knife slides from my pocket, where I'd hastily shoved it, back to its sheath, and I twirl the guns, slipping them into their holsters.

"Lead the way, as long as we get away from that damn Elvhen girl."