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"Still a kiddie in soldier's clothes, though."

Guy's a wannabe bad-a

"Badass? 'Gimme some slack, I raise pasture animals in a space ship; what's 'badass' is that?"

" .45 bullets, both composed with almost every metallic compound available in the periodic table. Without mention of amateur hacking tools, bubblegum, leaky packs of hemostatic powder, a very important emergency supply of spices, golden pennies and week-old beef jerky. Of course, also the stylish leather steel-toed boots, designed for maximum protection. And maximum face smashing.
"

"This easily describes every disgraced mercenary or bounty hunter that, at best, lives only to their fifties, either paragons of an opressed interstellar society or catalysts of its inevitable destruction. But those are not what set the Revenant apart. Skin, flesh and bones, right where his right arm should be, is nowhere to be seen. Instead, a repugnant sinewy mass that only barely resembles the exposed muscles a limb should have, entirely tinted gunblack. It quietly throbs in place, noises of flesh being ripped apart emanating from it whenever the Revenant decides to unholster his Revolver and blast a poor fool to kingdom come. More over, it is perpetually leaking, dripping a silvery gunk on occasion, even if its almost always wrapped in bandages.

And, like the entirety of Revenant's violated, profane being, the stench of fresh blood wafts from it."

"Hey, cool! A talking tank! I wonder who did your A.I. programming."

I'm a ghost, bruv

I'm a tank, but the soul is a ghost

"Quite the loud ghost, it seems."

I can see the 2 of us actually getting along

“I can see you being in my nightmares.”

“A mining cat? Huh, neat! I wonder, could I pay you in tuna fish for some gems?” He then laughs loudly before getting a response, showing he was teasing.
“Nice to meet you Cat, never would’ve thought I would meet a feline that likes the underground.”

Maisi looks at the redhead quite closely for a half-second, standing oddly still as if trying to figure out whether she knows him or not. She makes her decision and relaxes--but only slightly--continuing to keep her distance. "You seem friendly," she begins cautiously. "Maybe a little loud, possibly kinda headstrong... If I had to take a wild guess, I'd say you give me the impression that you jump headfirst before thinking something through all the way. Maybe it's good that you have initiative, but it's a 50/50 chance everything will go horribly wrong."

The artist shuffles her feet a little and casually moves back a bit, tacking on, "You also kinda remind me of someone I knew who was pretty cocky, so maybe you're a bit overconfident, too. Which would explain the 'jumping headfirst' vibe."

very though... I'd like to be your friend, but I have the feeling your head would explode.

You like acting like you know everything, like you've seen everything, yet you know you lack the key essentials

bro chill out you doing way to much for what dont piss me off bro (just joking something my oc would say-)

“Hey, cool tatt!

"Nice music, nice fashion sense. Definitely someone who I wouldn't mind brought home by one of my daughters."

"I really haven't the foggiest where to begin with all of this," the detective comments, both hands sifting through his curls to give them a good tousle. "You epitomize a matriarchal semblance. I mean, you quite literally represent the 'mother' archetype. I imagine no one goes to bed hungry under your roof."

He almost hesitates to elaborate on this fact considering how redundant it would be, yet he couldn't help but notice all the conspicuous details. "I believe your soothing nature is a comfort to those around you."

Standing beside the younger detective, David almost simultaneously made a very similar gesture - running one hand up through thinning hair, briefly bumping up his hat in the process.

"You an' me both, pal." He lamented, wholly agreeing to his fellow sleuth's sentiment of having no idea where to even begin with the evidence presented. A look of baffled concern creased his long face as he stood there, surveying the total insanity of a space roiling with drug addicts, demons, demigod dragons, baby-faced killers, improbable hybrid entities, beings with no apparent physical form whatsoever, sentient vehicles, uncomfortably fetishized superheroes, edgy, generic protagonist templates, a whole slew of wild animals that somebody must have let in alongside the gaggle of people whose personalities clearly had about as much depth as soggy cardboard, and several totally normal people who were comically out-of-place standing awkwardly among the roiling cacophony of bickering and blurted, one-word answers. A few were talking to themselves. Frankly the whole scene was quite distressing.

Tearing his eyes away from the train wreck taking place before him with a great effort of will, Dave turned his attention back to the other detective. "Well ah, anyway, I don't think it'd take a detective t'figure out my first impression'a you." He drawled, grinning lopsidedly and peering out from beneath the sloping brim of his hat, then going about the ritualistic process of procuring a candy cigarette from the inner pocket of his archetypal trench coat, being sure to offer one as he continued. "Definitely th'kinda' fella' I wouldn't mind havin' a looong conversation with." He paused a moment, slyly averting his eyes and grinning a bit wider as he added "Preferrably over a drink." and followed it up with an overtly suggestive wink which the younger man almost certainly did not appreciate in the slightest - because achieving 'silver fox' status had long-since taught him that you miss one hundred percent of the shots you don't take.