Terra Everett

::the casually slouching girl, eyelids half closed, refuses to change her position or to show any sign of caring about being questioned short of saying her name:: Terra Everett.

Right, yer real name?

I have no reason to create and alias for myself, Daley. That is my real name.

Shoa . . . age?

Eighteen.

Appearance? *gives you a once over and smirks

::brushes her hair out of her eyes glancing up at Daley's towering figure--refuses to dignify that with an answer. She's adopted men's clothing and general scruffiness-- always wearing pants and long-sleeved shirts no matter what the temperature is. She's tall, just as tall as Daley when standing up (6')-- however, unhealthily thin. Her long light brown hair reaching halfway down her back, tangled up in itself. She has an absolutely striking face. Deep-set brownish-green eyes are the most prominent features. Were she to actually care enough about her appearance to clean up she would be surprisingly pulchritudinous.::

What's yer story?

Sorry, I'm afraid I haven't lead a horribly interesting life. ::Terra, unlike most of the workers at the Silver Nickel, is not there because Beale is holding something over her head. In fact there's absolutely nothing incriminating in her past for him to find out about. She took the job as lookout because, being an insomniac, it seemed to be the ideal position.::

Dat da one yer tellin' da bulls?

Yes Daley. Yes it is.

Single tanight, or datin'?

Why? Did you loose your usual entourage of drunken women?

Any weapons? Ya drop 'em on da table.

::stands, her entire being radiating indifference as she does, and starts removing knives from various places on her person. The pockets in her pants are useless as they're slit to allow access to the weapons strapped to her thighs. She slips a knife out of each of her sleeves adding to the pile already forming on the table. Reaching into her shirt she produces four more before bending down to retrieve the rest. All together there are fourteen, ranging in size.:: I think that's everything... ::as she doesn't spend that much time actually inside the building her barrage of weapons is usually overlooked-- and the fact that she doesn't use them very often, preferring to use her body as a weapon, helps a bit.::

What's yer game?

::sits back down, replacing her weapons:: I sit out here and watch for bulls or other unwanted persons. I'm not exactly spending a lot of my time playing games.

Anythin' else we should know?

::shrugs lightly-- Terra isn't really as sarcastic as all that. Simply, Daley has a talent for picking choice moments to approach her-- when she's being particularly anti-social or lost in thought. It's more a friendly rivalry then anything else. Her indifference comes from not really caring too much what other people think of her, it's not because she doesn't like people. All in all, she's simply complicated. A walking contradiction.::