Bio
Scane drifts through the verse with the easy calm of someone who lost stress behind a sofa years ago and never bothered to look for it. Cheerful, vaguely fragrant, and strangely polite for a pirate, he will greet you warmly and then, in the same breath, relieve you of anything not nailed down. It is rarely personal. His turret is the only thing he treats with genuine devotion, like a pet that occasionally bites but does excellent tricks.
As a Racketeer, he follows their noble creed of stealing from the rich and letting the paperwork sort itself out. During a haul he hums, asks if anyone else can feel the colours, and still hits every target with the sort of accuracy that really should involve training but absolutely does not. He insists it just happens when his turret smells just right.
Under the giggles is a chaotic sort of competence. If he points a gun at you, he knows how it ends. It may not end that way, and it may be untidy, but it gets done.