Gendo Ikari 4 hours ago
@gendoThe damage was minute, subtle, and utterly effective. For Case, who'd lived for the bodiless exultation of cyberspace, it was the Fall. In the bars he'd frequented as a cowboy hotshot, the elite stance involved a certain relaxed contempt for the flesh. The body was meat.
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Rei Ayanami @ayanami 4 hours ago Her dark hair was drawn back, held by a band of printed silk. The pattern might have represented microcircuits, or a city map.
Shinji Ikari @shinji 4 hours ago The Chatsubo was a bar for professional expatriates; you could drink there for a week and never hear two words in Japanese. Ratz was tending bar, his prosthetic arm jerking monotonously as he filled a tray of glasses with draft Kirin. He saw Case and smiled, his teeth a web work of East European steel and brown decay. Case found a place at the bar, between the unlikely tan on one of Lonny Zone's whores and the crisp naval uniform of a tall African whose cheekbones were ridged with precise rows of tribal scars.
Shinji Ikari @shinji 4 hours ago You are too much the artiste, Herr Case. Ratz grunted; the sound served him as laughter. He scratched his overhang of white-shirted belly with the pink claw. You are the artiste of the slightly funny deal. Sure, Case said, and sipped his beer.
Rei Ayanami @ayanami 4 hours ago In an age of affordable beauty, there was something heraldic about his lack of it. The antique arm whined as he reached for another mug.