[u][b]Mike Morel[/b][/u]

[u]Capital Base, Liberty.[/u]

Life sure was great. Even strolling down the isles of those in line for reconditioning he held a chipper spring in his step. His whistling was cut short as a poor young youth cried out, purging his stomach down the drain. A shame that. Perhaps he'd enjoy his life better after the nice men fixed him up and got him back on the straight and narrow but for now he seemed to be ill.

"Hello there young fellow!" He greeted the youth with a kind smile, no shred of disingenuousness to it. "Must be a bit of a rough time for you. Want me to put in a request for a couple peptic tablets and, er, another cup of water?"

His offer was not out of pity but rather sympathy for the young man. He understood how it would be uncomfortable, being forced to digest something which leaves him so disheveled and ill. It wasn't uncommon for him to find himself straddling that line given his special dietary needs.

Also maybe he was just a naturally empathetic fellow. He didn't consider it out of order to help out a person here or there even when they weren't in his department. Occasionally he was considered a bit nosey but for him being nice was just what came naturally. So there he stood, over by the cell door leaned just the slightest bit forward, his pitch black hair brushing the frame of the door.