>>16122He slammed his fist into the comm panel. "My apologies fer assumin' ye were decent folk."
He stomped over to his locker, snagging a well worn yellow and black vac suit from the coat rack as he went, throwing it over himself as he went and grabbing, a power drill from an adjacent table, began securing the suit to his implants. He cracked open the locker and shifted three objects over to the table. After fitting one of them, a long cylinder with two canisters on either side mounted to an elongated pentagonal base, to a slot on his left forearm, he hefted a power drill in the other hand and secured it to the appropriate port, repeating the process for the opposite arm with a similar device. The third object he secured around his waste on a tool belt, letting the weathered eightgun hang from his hip in a cracked leather holster.
He thumped his way over to the comm panel, slamming it with his closed fist again. "Now let's get paid, shall we?"