It wouldn't be the first time someone had broken his nose. It wouldn't be the last either. His face was very recognizable back on Earth and those that wanted to kill tended to go directly for his face, which was just rude. He had other spots on his body that were much more well padded and didn't protect his fucking stack.

Break his fucking ribs instead, why don't you.

"It'd just make me prettier."

His ego was healthy if it was nothing else. He smirked, eyes scanning over that tattoo and filing it away for later consideration. Had to learn what he was up against if he was going to keep himself occupied on this tin can.

"No, and it's fucking killing me," Kovacs says melodramatically. This place looks like it's been wiped clean. Kovacs knows there's gotta be something lurking below all that shine that gives a clue on who's come before them but he hasn't gotten around to looking.

Hasn't gotten around to finding a fucking cigarette either.

"Been substituting alcohol whenever I get a craving."