Claymore would have had sighed, straping the gun of her own to her back. Her hair was in an ponytail, leaving her younger side to show. Even if she looked young, she was not going to be treated like an kid. Claymore would head to get an drink- anything. Her bullets would rattle in her gun as she went down the stairs, liking the air conditioner. She would grab an bottle and sit on an chair, drinkin