Working on a vignette series inspired by the Dangerous Curves contest

-final work
-wireframe
-original render


His eyes never stopped moving. That alone didn’t mean anything. Everyone looked hunted down here. He smirked when she asked her question, slurped noodles like it was a joke, then leaned in just enough to be rude. “You got a badge number, detective?he said. “Or you just scare people for fun?McCulloch didn’t answer right away. She shifted, her shoulder rolling back, and drew the blaster from its holster beneath her arm—clean, practiced, inevitable. She raised it to head height between them, not aiming, just present. The hum of the charge cell sliced through the street noise. “Badge numbers get forged,she said, tipping the weapon slightly so he couldn’t miss it. “This one doesn’t.Her eyes locked onto his. “Now finish your noodles. Then you’re going to tell me where you were born.