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[h1][color=aba000]Martin Kirkman[/color] & Cordelia Lynn Holmes[/h1]
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[color=aba000]“Well… didn’t really expect you to be that up front. Whilst we’re bein transparent I may as well let you know I’m meta myself. I manipulate atomic structure, long story short I can make damn good stuff, only problem is that it takes so long to do that its useless in combat, don’t work on living things neither. I make my gear and I make rare parts too sell for cash and that’s about it.”[/color]

[b]Lynn lay on the couch, hands gently resting over her swollen stomach. Damn, she'd forgotten what it felt like to be this full. Her opinion of Martin was rapidly improving, even if a bit of paranoia was still there. Lean freedom to fat slavery anyday. Lynn didn't fully understand what the hell an atomic structure was-her mind immediately jumped to nukes-but she didn't want Martin to think she was retarded or anything, so she gave him a knowing grunt that hopefully just seemed nonchalant.[/b]

Martin stood and collected the discarded cartons and utensils. Dropping the cartons in the can he washed the cutlery and glasses in silence letting her think whilst his mind raced with the possibilities she present if she decided to work with him. Washing the suds off in the cold water he dried each piece individually. Placing a few forks in a glass he left it on the windowsill to the fire escape. 

Wouldn’t matter if someone wanted to get out but if they wanted to get in it would make a clatter when they knock it over. The door would make enough noise on its own and besides, if anyone was coming in the front there would be bigger problems to deal with. Just because your paranoid don’t mean they aren’t watching you.

[b]Lynn grinned as she watched him. Martin was clever-and looked to be street-savvy enough to think of something like that. She had no use for somebody who couldn't get their hands dirty, couldn't see the world as it really was. Thus far, Martin seemed to be levelling with her. Thus far.[/b]

[color=aba000]“If ya ain’t got nothing else needs said or done then I’m going to hit the hey, hothead. Theres some sheets over there.”[/color] Gesturing at a neat pile of fabric. [color=aba000]“Don’t use the pale yellow ones, they’ll itch like crazy but the white ones will be fine. Couch is yours as long as you want it. I’m thinking of scouting the sewers a bit tomorrow, work out what goes where maybe find a place or two for a cashe. If ya ain’t anything else going you’d be a big help. Anyway I’m an early riser so I’ll try not to wake ya if I’m up first.” [/color]

[b]"No, I can go with you. Just wake me up whenever. And, uh, thanks." Lynn grabbed the white sheets (wondering why Martin kept the yellow ones around, but it wasn't her business) and flopped down on the couch. She didn't bother tucking it in or anything similar, she just threw the sheet out over her legs and hoped for the best. Not that she really needed a blanket-it was just more comfortable. Lynn was used to sleeping on worse-a few seconds after she laid her head down on the cushion, fatigue sunk into her arms and legs. Lynn had been planning on going through Martin's shit after he fell asleep, checking to see if there was anything sketch like a Klan uniform in the cloest or a VCPD badge tucked away somewhere but...the couch. The couch was really comfortable. Really comfortable.[/b]

With nothing else to be said Martin picked up his coat and disappeared into his room, closing the door behind him. He sat on the edge of the bed and laid his holster on the back of chair next to his bed.

Hell of a first day. Any plans I had coming in are in tatters. Though maybe it’s for the best. I knew coming in that a man on his own would be dead in a month baring some real delta shit. Maybe a smarter man would spend the night awake with his gun but damn if coming here was a smart idea I’m Mickey Mouse. Hemmingway said it right, The best way to find out if you can trust somebody is to trust them.

Folding his clothes neatly on the chair he laid back. Sleep incoming, ETA… right fucking now.