( No Title )
Jill looked down at the identification card in her hands, before tilting her gaze back up at Chris Redfield.
He was flanked by a couple of the eggheads from the Project’s labs, as he gauged her incredulous expression.
“Asset?” she said, holding the card up towards the group “Jill Valentine, Asset, Safety Class 1? Are you fucking kidding me, Redfield?”
“The scientists say that given your metahuman status, you’re classified as an Asset with Operative benefits. Jill. I know that…”
“I’m almost fucking insulted.” She grumbled “I mean, either make me an Operative with the group, or give me a better safety class than ONE. Are you SERIOUSLY saying I’m tamer than William fucking Birkin? The man breaks down crying when he sees even a hint of his daughter, and he’s a safety class THREE.”
Chris stared her down, incredulous expression on his face as his brow furrowed. “Jill, this is ridiculous.”
“Who’s a girl gotta kill to get a decent safety rating in this place?” Jill joked with a smirk “if I’m gonna be lodging with the Assets, I don’t want them thinking I’m soft.”
The scientist flanking Redfield made a note on his clipboard. ‘Safety Class 2?’, before nodding to his compatriot.
Redfield just sighed, pressing his hand to his face “Valentine. You never change, do you?”
Discussion ¬