#Lemme' just yoiinkkkk this

[stxr-bxster]

"...Either those gas masks ain't shit, or someone was smuggling tubers in this suit." Knowing the company, both could have been possible, really. The suits tended to pass between a couple different hands, what with "employee rotations" - corporate speak for "this used to belong to a dead guy". Krigg didn't usually go for "suicidally stupid" jobs, but when one needs cash in the backwater bum-end of space, one finds a way.

Even if it involved masquerading as human, wearing some squeaky, ill-fitting, gross orange suit, and running around dusty buildings for unknown purposes, collecting litteral trash. While dodging loud, toothy, slimy or very creepy problems. It wasn't so bad when in a group - the shit talking made things bearable, but when she was alone, mumbling to herself was her only option.

Digressions aside - the smell of beets wasn't TOO frightening. But Krigg had a fairly well honed sense of things standing at the cusp of going very wrong. And that particular sense had been blaring like a siren, whenever the oddly natural scent flared up. "Please, just be a smelly suit..." So, this time, just in case, she slowly shifted to turn her body to look at one of the darkened hallways she had just crossed, holding in front of her with no small amount of caution what... looked like a warped road sign. She was not taking chances when not allowed to carry.

Open

There's been a presence lingering in the shadows for a while now. Lurking. Is it dangerous? Or curious? Oddly the smell of dirt and beets permeate the air.