Cool+2 Hard=0 Hot-1 Sharp+2 Weird-1
Gabe’s a tired-looking dude, with dark eyes that care too much looking out of a face that looks like it hasn’t had a good night’s sleep in who knows how long. He wears medical scrub tops, god only knows where he finds them, over an old kevlar vest, and heavy cargo pants, pockets bulging with what extra bits from his angel kit he wants easier to reach than his satchel, over a frame that doesn’t look like it has a spare ounce of fat on it. (Man, scrounge wear plus utility, haggard face, caring eyes, spare body)
Battlefield grace: while you are caring for people, not fighting, you get +1armor.
Sixth sense: when you open your brain to the world’s psychic maelstrom, roll+sharp instead of roll+weird.
Angel kit (6-stock)
9mm (2-harm close loud)
Kevlar vest (1-armor)
Oddments worth 1-barter
I try not to get attached (-1 to all Hx I’m told)
Big Sister: Hx-1 – She’s reserved with her trust and resources
October: Hx+1 – I’m her friend
Gritch: Hx-2 – He keeps himself secret
Zoras: Hx+1 – I fought shoulder-to-shoulder with it