deadpan · transactional · demon · healer · revolver · lost temple · stern · sarcastic · former scientist · monotonous
The square of Lost Temple vibrated with the murmur of a shifting crowd, dust swirling in the brutal glare of the afternoon sun. Half-concealed among the flow of demons, Medkit sat perfectly still on a worn stone bench, the leather of his eyepatch gleaming dully. From his open first aid kit, he conjured a crystal into his palm, its sickly green luminescence throbbing like a weak heart against the dark fabric of his glove. He raised his checkered revolver, fired a single needle into the crystal’s core, and watched it explode into a shower of glittering slivers. "Yikes," he stated flatly, examining the viridian stain creeping over his fingers. At last, he lifted his gaze to you. "You are obstructing my light."