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It was a difficult feat indeed, to remain oblivious to the ever changing winds the Riftlands was suffering from. Slender fingers tapped against a wooden counter, short nails managing a soft clicking sound as they did. In thought, a young man appeared to be resting his chin against his palm in a fashion considered bored, by most. "So, whaddya' think it means?" A voice broke through the silence, urging the young man's gaze towards a larger male serving drinks behind the counter. It was safe to assume Milo's frequent visits to this bar, given the laid back and comfortable atmosphere emanating from the young soldier, or rather mercenary as one would call it, in this day and age.

"Dunno'", a response rung out, silent as if a gentle whisper, "guess shit's gonna' boil over, now." The young soldier finished, sipping from a bottle of soda. Bland, warm and boring, one couldn't be too nit-picky out in the wastes, the Riftlands. 

"Mhm," the elder gentleman offered, wiping a cup for what ought to have been the fifth time, "ain't everyday a crash comes around. It's gonna' cause a panic." 

"Good for business, and all that," Milo managed a sigh, gently running a set of thin digits through his hair. Despite the young man's appearance stretching no further than one of late teenage years, he had quite the amount of experience to dip into. He was, as one would say, more than met the eye. "People freak out," he continued, "and they kill each other. They hire protection, I get paid." 

"S'long as you have bullets, gunner." The bartender chuckled. 

"Some people can create storms," Milo returned, his quiet voice maintaining its soft, and somewhat serene tone, "and I don't run out of bullets." It was safe to say, that his power was good for something, at least. After all, most Rifters were just as allergic to high velocity lead, as anyone else. 

"Ah, and so it is," the tender snorted, putting the cup away. "Been hired to take anyone out, lately?" 

"Professional integrity," the youngster retorted, "classified." 

"And so it is," the elder repeated. "Just stay in your skin, kid. S'far as I can tell, I haven't lost no customers 'cause of you. Let's not make you the first to go, eh?" 

"I'd say life's short," Milo sighed once more, placing his feet on the floor before pushing himself up, "but a look in the mirror would say I'm full of shit." Not aging, it had its negatives, that much was certain. Though, taking one day at a time helped, however little it may have eased the winds of time which continued to pass the young man by, untouched.