[Even after the True Leithan leaders responsible for the mess get rounded up, there's still scores of missing identities being bartered about to the highest bidders. Which means plenty of work to be done sifting through the moon for them. The longer they have to get disperse, the harder they're going to be to find. So the obvious thing to do is track down the suppliers before they can be sold.
That the Company is very unwelcome here is something of a given. As a whole, Eulogy isn't enormously fond of killjoys sticking their noses in on things, either. Doesn't do to invite someone up onto your doorstep if they might sell you down the river for the right warrant. Despite his roots, Jason doesn't exist on the Quad in enough capacity to ping as a crook on record—or as just about anything else, actually, since there's nothing on him at all until he signed up with the RAC—but he certainly knows how to go through the motions. At a glance, most don't give him a second look. (It's the charming face, probably.) Right now, they're not paying much attention to him, because they're too busy giving second looks to the increasingly high strung undercover enforcer at the bar. Which has the potential to go south real fast if she doesn't watch herself.
Of course, she's still plenty capable of watching herself in certain respects. He has to duck backward, lifting his chin as the punch whiffs past by inches. She does have a mean right hook.]
Woah, woah! Easy, tiger. [Holding his hands up in mock-surrender so she can get a good look at him, he gives her a pointed raise of his brows. Hello, officer, you're not supposed to be here. They're drawing attention from rubberneckers already, which is fine as long as they stop drawing attention soon. It might actually be better in the long run—place like this, the occasional barfight is basically a sport in and of itself, sticking to yourself might ping as more suspicious rather than less. But neither one of them wants anyone to look too closely. So play along for a few seconds, Hawkeye, if you'd like to keep your cover intact. With an appropriate amount of apologetic alarm—]
I thought we were even for the Axon job after you threw Graves out the airlock. We even let you take his cut since he let the cargo loose in the hold.
[You're a dangerous, vengeful space-cattle rustler in your spare time now, Riza. Congrats. (Is he enjoying this a little bit too much? Probably.)]
If you're still mad, I can buy you a drink and we can work it out.
[And she can tell him what she's really doing here.]
smh
That the Company is very unwelcome here is something of a given. As a whole, Eulogy isn't enormously fond of killjoys sticking their noses in on things, either. Doesn't do to invite someone up onto your doorstep if they might sell you down the river for the right warrant. Despite his roots, Jason doesn't exist on the Quad in enough capacity to ping as a crook on record—or as just about anything else, actually, since there's nothing on him at all until he signed up with the RAC—but he certainly knows how to go through the motions. At a glance, most don't give him a second look. (It's the charming face, probably.) Right now, they're not paying much attention to him, because they're too busy giving second looks to the increasingly high strung undercover enforcer at the bar. Which has the potential to go south real fast if she doesn't watch herself.
Of course, she's still plenty capable of watching herself in certain respects. He has to duck backward, lifting his chin as the punch whiffs past by inches. She does have a mean right hook.]
Woah, woah! Easy, tiger. [Holding his hands up in mock-surrender so she can get a good look at him, he gives her a pointed raise of his brows. Hello, officer, you're not supposed to be here. They're drawing attention from rubberneckers already, which is fine as long as they stop drawing attention soon. It might actually be better in the long run—place like this, the occasional barfight is basically a sport in and of itself, sticking to yourself might ping as more suspicious rather than less. But neither one of them wants anyone to look too closely. So play along for a few seconds, Hawkeye, if you'd like to keep your cover intact. With an appropriate amount of apologetic alarm—]
I thought we were even for the Axon job after you threw Graves out the airlock. We even let you take his cut since he let the cargo loose in the hold.
[You're a dangerous, vengeful space-cattle rustler in your spare time now, Riza. Congrats. (Is he enjoying this a little bit too much? Probably.)]
If you're still mad, I can buy you a drink and we can work it out.
[And she can tell him what she's really doing here.]