Hi, you've reached the chatter of Dexter Grif. I'm not available to take your call, so leave the usual answering system info and I'll get back to you.

"...So, this sample that came from your armor's arm during its maintenance cleaning a couple days ago. You said it was slobber from a werewolf baby?"

"A were-something, anyway. Harvestman didn't say what kind."

"Ah. Well, you'll be happy to know that it scans clean, so you won't have to worry about your armor turning into anything on the next ( Read more... )

"---k-a-i-n-a. Yeah, that's right."

"...ha. Of course she tried to enlist as 'Sister.' Should've expected that. ...What? Never you mind that. What's her file say happened to her?"

"WHAT?! And no one ever sent out a goddamned-- oh no, don't you fucking DARE hang u---"

Fucking hell. My sister may still be alive, after all. BBL; Gotta go do some ( Read more... )

( Better toys, but not for kids. )

Grif had more or less scoured Blood Gulch Outpost No.1 top to bottom ( Read more... )