[Nimbasa]

>>Reply
 >>To: Marcus
  >>What the hell man? Are you high? I get that we've become great pals and shit but that's a part of you I'd prefer to not see, dig? Thanks for this though, and who knows, maybe El Guapo will meet some friends?

>> Reply
  >> Sender: Marcus
    >> Message: FUCK YEAH CHUMMER!!! What time i should be there?

>>Reply
 >>To: Marcus
  >>Come around 8:30, want to stop for tacos on the way, feelin' like tacos.

[SlowDeck]

>> Reply
  >> Sender: Jeighk
    >> Message: Yo i just woke up girl won't be out at the spot for a minute still but GOOD lookin out. you hungry. BIG RESPEK for the hustle wiz? I aint doin shit at the crib if you jus wanna meet up here though. A mug could actually use a ride.

>>Reply
>>To: Jeighk
>>On my way. Keep an eye out for two vehicles.

Slappendash's mind then slipped from the Matrix message back to her vehicle. She automatically adjusted the direction, intending to stop by and pick him up. The feel of the road beneath her tires was just heavenly, so she didn't mind the extra trip. She just hoped it would not get too rough; that always left her feeling queasy.

She then tried to pull up a Grid Guide map, just to see which roads she would be taking to her two destinations.

[Poindexter]

She then tried to pull up a Grid Guide map, just to see which roads she would be taking to her two destinations.

If he's talking about the same place you used to crash at, its a tiny little garage apt at 29371 Willow Branch Avenue although you know he keeps several places on different sides of town.

https://www.google.com/maps/@30.312742,-81.703237,3a,48.4y,118.35h,83.48t/data=!3m4!1e1!3m2!1sxwQcoT_E0sJ9yi0Ft68E7w!2e0?hl=en

From there, its probably just east down post, then north on riverside ave, over the Acosta bridge before you're downtown. After that, good luck parking one vehicle, let alone two. Sam has a history of having more going on than he lets you know at first, so who knows where the two of you might be headed before this meeting. It's always an interesting night with One.

[Poindexter]

@ Isaac

>>Reply
 >>To: Marcus
  >>Come around 8:30, want to stop for tacos on the way, feelin' like tacos.

>> Reply
  >> Sender: Marcus
    >> Message: WIZ


@Slappendash

[One's place, Friday July 14th, 6:45PM]

Sam's place is a nightmare, far worse than it was just a few weeks ago when you were staying here. The couch in the living room where you're sitting right now was never a picnic, but there was never a large burnmark covering half of it like there is now. The floor is covered with empty paint cans, the air is thick with the smell of aerosol and the walls are adorned with countless layers of graffitti pieces, denoting years of practice by innumerable artists. Right now, there are at least 5 other men here, three humans, an elf, and an ork. None of them introduced themselves, and only one of them, the elf, is giving you "the look". When you first showed up, it was just the ork and Sam here, but dudes just keep filtering in, as time goes by. They and Sam have been painting the walls, writing raps, and smoking enough zen to paralyze a horse since you got here at 4:30. You move the old, yellowed blinds out of the way and look outside to check on your rides. Except for a couple stray cats on the hood of the Americar, there's nothing but the rain moving out there. Instead of dying down around 4, like it usually does, the rain actually picked up a little bit and hasn't backed down since.

Sam is finishing the 3D effects on a big purple and yellow ONE67 in bubble letters when his paint cap begins to sputter. He staggers across the room and flops down next to you on the couch. After fishing a small safety pin out of his pocket, he talks to you as he tries to use it to unclog his cap, his voice slightly muffled by the respirator on his face.

"So, we rollin' in the family truckster or the frakkin Millenium Falcon out there? Personally, a mug that rolled up in a stylin ass luxury vehicle like that Ares out there might just leave a few jaws at this battle kinda slack, y'know? Make em think twice about steppin to the original, right? We should take that one.  Is that cool with you, Slap?"

He looks up from his mini-project and even though his mouth is covered, you can tell he's wearing his trademark goofy ass grin when he makes eye-contact with you and adds, "Plus I kinda told a bunch a mugs they could ride with me."

[Tenlaar]

>>Outgoing message:
 >>To: Rock
  >>Sounds good omae.  Heading to check in at the shop, hope I'm done for today.  Head that way and find you after.


Samuel puts his comm away and ducks into an office that he knows has a water fountain in the front.  This is his favorite part of this particular route- ever since the first time the guards threw him out he has gotten a strange joy from figuratively tweaking their noses.  He quickly slurps up a few mouthfuls and waits to head back to the door until the guard at the front desk has had to stand up and is starting to head his way.  Customers only my ass, greedy sons a bitches.  With a smile and a wave he is out the door, the sound of the guard cursing at him cutting off as it closes.

Wanting to meet Rock and get back home before the less desirable elements rouse from their late nights, Samuel starts to jog the last part of the trip back to the shop.

[Poindexter]

>>Outgoing message:
 >>To: Rock
  >>Sounds good omae.  Heading to check in at the shop, hope I'm done for today.  Head that way and find you after.

>> Reply
  >> Sender: Rock
    >> Message: Let me know if you're gonna be delayed. I'm starting to get really hungry.

Wanting to meet Rock and get back home before the less desirable elements rouse from their late nights, Samuel starts to jog the last part of the trip back to the shop.

[Jacksonville, Florida, Friday July 14th, 4:10PM]

The rain still hasn't let up. In fact, you're starting to hear the distant rumble of thunder over the regular hum of the city. This might not be one of the regular "three o'clock" storms you're used to. Being a local, you're well aware that if it ain't done by four, it might just last a few days.

You've finally arrived at the shop, drenched. Times like these are when Dave's near obsession with air conditioning really starts to get to you. You can almost feel the rainwater freezing into the more exposed bits of your clothing as soon as you walk in the front door, making the irritating electronic "DING" noise. Dave is seated behind the counter in his sweat stained "Who Farted?" baseball cap, reading a book in an ARO carefully made up to look like an old leather bound tome. It hovers in front of him as he lazily flips through the pages with one finger. Hearing the "DING", he looks up and smiles before speaking in his old school, swamp-billy sort of dialect.

"Dun good today, boah. Pendin' on the way some drek do or don't wind up goin, i might needjya later on tonight, say round one in the mornin', but that'll be extra jing for that. here's what i owe ya fer today." He slides a standard credstick across the counter to you. "Three deliveries at 25 a piece. Now go out and getchya some pussy or sumthin', and stop drippin' all over my store!"

[OOC] The credstick has 75 on it. woo hoo!

[kalarin]

Aint worked on nothin since the accident...damn drek aint bad for a 2 wheeler, wonder if it's hot.. Johnny nods in approval, itching to to work on something mechanical. It'd been too long, the hospital keeping him in lockdown for months. Shoulda smashed those fools and left, damn sis, anyone else...

Outgoing message:
 >>Recipient: Jay
  >>dreeeeek now we talkin! on my way. peace!

Johnny pulls a cheap pair of glasses from  his head, covering his eyes. Ignoring the weather, he locks the door to his cheap room, faded paint, barred windows and a nasty smell the greet Johnny on his way out. Drek better not let this crap get wet Johnny pockets his comm. It wasn't a long walk to Jay's, though Johnny still jumped in to his Bulldog, a well worn, dented step van. She was painted black, with black tints, though the paint had started to chip. She'd DEFINITELY been in an accident recently, a lot of body work to get her right.

Johnny frowns at the condition of the van, jumping in, stretching out in the adjusted drivers seat. Wouldn't trade ya in for anything baby he thinks, tapping the steering wheel. He Considering putting on his helmet, though decides against it No need to the image link and no need for the attention... Firing her up, he drives off, heading in the direction of Five Points. Winding down the window, Johnny rests his arm on the door, a light rain coating his left side as he drives. Drek if it that bike is hot Jay best be giving me a cut, bet he's got some cram...

[Poindexter]

Firing her up, he drives off, heading in the direction of Five Points.

[Out behind Five Points, Friday July 14th, 7:45PM]

It's been a shitty time since you left the house. Not only was traffic a nightmare, getting from the beach out to riverside in rush hour, but the rain made it even worse. You never got why people are MORE likely to turn the autopilot off in shitty weather, when that's precisely the time they need it the most. When you finally get to the the front of the jam, of course, it's some asshole corp on manual, trying to pass where everyone knew there was no damn room and crunchin into someone. At least he looks hurt, you think to yourself as you give him the finger while passing.

Took ya about an hour to make the drive, and since you got there, you've been trying to help Jay put this bike together. He bought it sight unseen and assembly-required, and he's far too drunk to be of any use assembling any damn thing today. It's not that he's sloppy, it's just that he has no focus when he's like this. While you've had your head down working, downing the occasional beer, he's been splitting his time between helping, examining the graffitti on the walls, pounding beers, doing pushups, texting chicks, and striking up awkward conversations with the odd store employee that comes out into the back area where yall are working to empty garbage. Not only is he damn near useless drunk, but he's outta cram.

The bike is almost roadworthy, and with another hour or two of work, you're sure you can get it there, with or without his help. It is getting close to 8:00 though. Jay looks like he's on his last legs and is about to fall asleep standing up, and it's just BARELY starting to get dark. Dude's been partying too hard lately. He notices you checking your link for the time and slurs out, "Yougahshhhumwhere you needta be, shhhummer?" before burping loudly and frightening several nearby pigeons into flight. Just behind him, your eyes focus on a salmon and teal colored ONE67 in twisted block letters, painted on the wall.

[Tenlaar]

Samuel pockets the credstick and waves as he hurries back towards the door, talking over his shoulder as he heads out.  "Lemme know, probably be out and about.  Thanks boss man."

Once outside he stretches for a moment and heads down Park, working back up to a quick jog by the end of the block.

[SlowDeck]

@Slappendash

[One's place, Friday July 14th, 6:45PM]

Sam's place is a nightmare, far worse than it was just a few weeks ago when you were staying here. The couch in the living room where you're sitting right now was never a picnic, but there was never a large burnmark covering half of it like there is now. The floor is covered with empty paint cans, the air is thick with the smell of aerosol and the walls are adorned with countless layers of graffitti pieces, denoting years of practice by innumerable artists. Right now, there are at least 5 other men here, three humans, an elf, and an ork. None of them introduced themselves, and only one of them, the elf, is giving you "the look". When you first showed up, it was just the ork and Sam here, but dudes just keep filtering in, as time goes by. They and Sam have been painting the walls, writing raps, and smoking enough zen to paralyze a horse since you got here at 4:30. You move the old, yellowed blinds out of the way and look outside to check on your rides. Except for a couple stray cats on the hood of the Americar, there's nothing but the rain moving out there. Instead of dying down around 4, like it usually does, the rain actually picked up a little bit and hasn't backed down since.

Sam is finishing the 3D effects on a big purple and yellow ONE67 in bubble letters when his paint cap begins to sputter. He staggers across the room and flops down next to you on the couch. After fishing a small safety pin out of his pocket, he talks to you as he tries to use it to unclog his cap, his voice slightly muffled by the respirator on his face.

"So, we rollin' in the family truckster or the frakkin Millenium Falcon out there? Personally, a mug that rolled up in a stylin ass luxury vehicle like that Ares out there might just leave a few jaws at this battle kinda slack, y'know? Make em think twice about steppin to the original, right? We should take that one.  Is that cool with you, Slap?"

He looks up from his mini-project and even though his mouth is covered, you can tell he's wearing his trademark goofy ass grin when he makes eye-contact with you and adds, "Plus I kinda told a bunch a mugs they could ride with me."

Slappendash wrinkles her nose a moment in mirth outside the building; his place wasn't any cleaner than her's, but at least it didn't smell like the inside of a automechanic. She grinned to herself just a moment and then disengaged. There was a moment of disorientation as she lost the body of tires and metal and found herself trapped within the flesh again. Her eyes blinked open, then she reached up to rub them; it was always rough to adapt to reality after spending some time inside a machine. Then it was time to slip out of the car and head inside.

Once inside, she looked around a bit, then turned her eyes to the man she came to see.

"Falcon's loaded with drones. I brought some security just in case something happened. I figured you would want everyone paying attention to the mobile tank launching pure death instead of the getaway car if things went south. But, we can ride in it; it'll take a couple minutes to transfer the drones."

She grinned, hand on her hip as she spoke. Don't trust you entirely, but you're good enough. Don't trust your friends at all. But if they mean the difference between me getting out alive and not getting out at all, I'll gladly put them in the Ares.

"Wanna watch while I transfer? I made certain to bring party favors for any crashers."

I think I spent more on grenades than my parents did on every single birthday I ever had.

[Poindexter]

@Samuel

[Itali's Pizza and Pasta, Five Points, Friday July 14th, 6:40PM]

You've always loved Itali's. Clean, local, hand made, and priced for the lower class sprawl dweller. Sure, there's no more actual meat in any of the sauce, but the seasoning is so good, you can fool yourself if you're drunk enough. Too bad they don't serve alcohol. You and Rock have been here for about an hour and half, after having arrived in five points around a quarter to 5 and keeping him company while he fixed the AC next door. It was so ridiculously hot and muggy in there, you thought you'd pass out a few times, but Rock obviously needed a friend, so you stuck it out.

When you first got to the tiny little retro clothing shop for rich city girls, you found him up on a ladder, singing along with an old song on the intercom. "...be no one unless that someone is youuuuuuuuuu. I intend to be independently-" He notices you listening and stops abruptly. "Oh, Hoi chummer." he stammers out, looking a bit embarrassed. He seems relieved when you don't mention anything about it. You know he's kind of a sensitive guy, despite his outer shell and he seems especially fragile today.

You spent most of the time there nodding, handing him tools, and saying "oh damn" at the correct times in his story. Things aren't going well with him and Annabelle. They got in a big fight a few days ago and she went to stay with her mother. He knows he was wrong and he feels horrible, but she still needs some time to think about stuff. All throughout the job and dinner, you play the good friend and good listener.

After paying the bill whether you like it or not, he looks up at you and says, "So, what do you got goin' on tonight, Omae?"



@Slappendash

She grinned, hand on her hip as she spoke. Don't trust you entirely, but you're good enough. Don't trust your friends at all. But if they mean the difference between me getting out alive and not getting out at all, I'll gladly put them in the Ares.

Sam chuckles out loud, the sound bouncing off the bare walls and concrete floor of the little place, causing the five men already there and the two young dwarves who just walked in to turn and look. When he's certain he has the attention of the group, he pulls the respirator off his mouth and addresses the room.

"How many of yall hardcore-ass mugs came strapped for this battle, YO?!"

Most of the men look around confused at eachother with a distinct "what the fuck?" sort of look on their faces. One of the humans, a short skinny white boy with a backwards visor, puts on his best gangster pose and pulls up his shirt, to reveal a battered Ares Lightfire 70 tucked into the waistband of his sagging pants. He cocks his head back and says "Whaddup Six Seven? If we bangin, you KNOW im deyown!" a statement which brings everyone else in the house except Sam into a hysterical fit of laughter before they slowly turn and get back to whatever they were doing. Sam slowly turns his head back to you with that goofy grin you knew would be there.

"These mugs aint no fuckin G's. The fuck you think i called YOU for, word? I mean, i know you cute and all, but girl you COLD. So naw girl, these heads aint the difference tween life and death or no kinda shit like that. They just comin along to the show, like, show some love, wiz? BUT-" He raises his volume to be heard over the clatter of paint cans and the Boom-Bap of hip hop beats. "I don't trust a lot of these mugs not to be stealing shit NEITHER, so maybe just you and me take the falcon and this buncha' breeders can sardine they asses into the Clark Griswald out there?

[Tenlaar]

While Rock vents about his lady troubles, Samuel takes the opportunity to soak in some AC and take his mind off of things.  The wet heat of the long day fades away and the anticipation of the night with a rougher crowd is mostly overshadowed by concern for his friend.  Poor guy, just can't catch a break.  Shit, who can around here.  Gotta remember to see if I can do something to help make Anna happy, big man has enough on his shoulders.  Noting the time, Samuel finishes up his dinner and casually interrupts the flow of Rock's mostly one-sided conversation.

"So, what do you got goin' on tonight, Omae?"

"Some rap thing I'm supposed to go to.  Shit'll probably be ridiculous but I need to stretch my legs, if you know what I mean.  Maybe some work later on."  He runs his hand through his hair and checks the time again.  "Look chum, I need to run.  Sure I'll see you around the crib soon."

In short order Samuel walks into his somewhat run down apartment.  After throwing all three bolts and giving the door a hard tug he heads to the shower, eager to rinse off the day's sweat.  A quick scrub and dry later he is laying out some of his baggiest clothes, a pair of cargo pants about four sizes too large and a plain grey t-shirt that reaches almost to his knees.  Next to the clothes he lays out his medkit, subvocal mic, chameleon suit and bike helmet.

Finished with that, Samuel moves out to his workbench in the living room and has a seat. From under the bench he pulls out a large tackle box, setting it on the bench and opening it up.  Ok, what to use tonight.  Rummaging around for a few moments he ends up with a large plastic bottle cap, a small jar of glitter, a plain copper bracelet, and two stickers - green and red.  Using a marker he draws the proper designs on them and prepares to channel his energies.

About 25 minutes later, Samuel is sits back in his chair and lets out a long sigh. Fuck me, that was rough.  He runs his hand through his hair and tilts the chair back enough to see the clock in his kitchen.  7:40, couple hours to rest at least.  One better put on a show tonight.  He packs his supplies and stashes them back under the workbench, leaving out a single blue sticker and one of his markers which he grabs as he heads into his bedroom.  He only stops long enough to put them with his other supplies and set an alarm on his comm before he falls face down in his bed and is asleep.

It is several minutes after his alarm started going off before Samuel's eyes snap open.  After hopping out of bed and shutting it off he spends a couple of minutes stretching out the last of the soreness and begins preparing to leave.  He makes sure that his chameleon suit is shut off and pulls it most of the way on.  When it is up to his chest he folds the rest over and crosses the sleeves on his abdomen, taping the wrists against his sides.  He puts on the cargo pants and t-shirt over top and checks himself over to make sure no bulges are too obvious before slipping on his boots.  He sticks his supplies in the various pockets on his pants and grabs his keys and helmet.  On the way out he pulls a screamer arrowhead tied to a string off of a peg by the door and, after making sure the hallway is clear, heads out to meet One.

[SlowDeck]

@Slappendash

She grinned, hand on her hip as she spoke. Don't trust you entirely, but you're good enough. Don't trust your friends at all. But if they mean the difference between me getting out alive and not getting out at all, I'll gladly put them in the Ares.

Sam chuckles out loud, the sound bouncing off the bare walls and concrete floor of the little place, causing the five men already there and the two young dwarves who just walked in to turn and look. When he's certain he has the attention of the group, he pulls the respirator off his mouth and addresses the room.

"How many of yall hardcore-ass mugs came strapped for this battle, YO?!"

Most of the men look around confused at eachother with a distinct "what the fuck?" sort of look on their faces. One of the humans, a short skinny white boy with a backwards visor, puts on his best gangster pose and pulls up his shirt, to reveal a battered Ares Lightfire 70 tucked into the waistband of his sagging pants. He cocks his head back and says "Whaddup Six Seven? If we bangin, you KNOW im deyown!" a statement which brings everyone else in the house except Sam into a hysterical fit of laughter before they slowly turn and get back to whatever they were doing. Sam slowly turns his head back to you with that goofy grin you knew would be there.

"These mugs aint no fuckin G's. The fuck you think i called YOU for, word? I mean, i know you cute and all, but girl you COLD. So naw girl, these heads aint the difference tween life and death or no kinda shit like that. They just comin along to the show, like, show some love, wiz? BUT-" He raises his volume to be heard over the clatter of paint cans and the Boom-Bap of hip hop beats. "I don't trust a lot of these mugs not to be stealing shit NEITHER, so maybe just you and me take the falcon and this buncha' breeders can sardine they asses into the Clark Griswald out there?

Slappendash laughed and grinned. "You called me because I won't hesitate to turn troublemakers into fine mists and I sure as fuck have your back."

She then looked at the one who spoke up and thought, Hmm. Ready for if things go south. Probably too brave for his own good, but I like his attitude. I hope things don't go south.

She chuckled more, turning and motioning for them to follow. "And I may be cold, but the drek I've been through? You learn to have ice in your veins. And that arrangement works for me. It also should make people nervous. Make them wonder what else we're packing."

If they follow, she leads them down to the vehicles, making it a point to direct the others to the other vehicle while she led Sam to the Ares. Of course, she climbed into the driver's seat, making it a point to settle and let out a happy sigh as her mind connected with the machine. She liked this one; it made her feel powerful to be part of that much steel. She then took a moment, checking the vehicle's various displays to see how weapons were and running another check on her drones. It was so standard, she didn't even really think before doing it immediately.

She also turned her attention to the other car, calling up a display of its readings. Once everyone was buckled in, she would begin to drive both, having the other vehicle follow the Ares as it rolled down the street.

"Straight to the meeting, or do we have a stop first?" came her voice from a speaker in the Ares as she spoke.

[Poindexter]

Slappendash laughed and grinned. "You called me because I won't hesitate to turn troublemakers into fine mists and I sure as fuck have your back."

She then looked at the one who spoke up and thought, Hmm. Ready for if things go south. Probably too brave for his own good, but I like his attitude. I hope things don't go south.

It's about another two and a half hours of painting, rapping, smoking, drinking, debate about which beat making software is best, and even a small fistfight between the the elf and one of the humans before they're all ready to leave. Nothing serious, but the human got his pride hurt pretty bad and stormed out. That puts two dwarves, an ork, an elf, and two humans riding in the Ford.

She chuckled more, turning and motioning for them to follow. "And I may be cold, but the drek I've been through? You learn to have ice in your veins. And that arrangement works for me. It also should make people nervous. Make them wonder what else we're packing."

If they follow, she leads them down to the vehicles, making it a point to direct the others to the other vehicle while she led Sam to the Ares. Of course, she climbed into the driver's seat, making it a point to settle and let out a happy sigh as her mind connected with the machine. She liked this one; it made her feel powerful to be part of that much steel. She then took a moment, checking the vehicle's various displays to see how weapons were and running another check on her drones. It was so standard, she didn't even really think before doing it immediately.

She also turned her attention to the other car, calling up a display of its readings. Once everyone was buckled in, she would begin to drive both, having the other vehicle follow the Ares as it rolled down the street.

"Straight to the meeting, or do we have a stop first?" came her voice from a speaker in the Ares as she spoke.

You can't help but notice just how little preperation Sam is putting into looking presentable for this thing. For one thing, he's got that psuedo-fro that white guys get when they shave their hair off and then dont touch it for 6 months. But the front and center of it has been recently buzzed again, making him look simply crazy. Not only that, but he's still wearing the same torn and paint stained oversized yellow t-shirt he was wearing when you got here, some teal and yellow basketball shorts, and a pair of flip flops missing the toe holder on one side. He's replaced it with duct tape. He's clearly unarmed, unarmored, and unchromed, save a rather nice datajack. No jewelry, no chain, and a meta link. What the hell kinda rapper IS this guy, anyways?

Outside, his crew briefly argues over who's riding where, but it's understood that the ork is riding driver's seat. While the rest of them argue, the ork approaches you. Up close, you can tell this kid can't be any older than 15, which by ork standards is still well into adulthood. He's got a strong chin, a wide nose, blue eyes, and is actually rather attractive for an ork. With no hint of emotion of his face whatsoever, he looks you straight in the eyes and says, "I promise I will drive your car with respect, ma'am."

Once you're loaded in, Sam looks uncomfortable and you know what he's gonna say before he says it. "I know you got better reflexes and shit when you're jumped in like that, but it's just fuckin creepy, y'know? You all slumped over there, lookin' all dead and shit, and your voice all comin out a speaker? It just freaks me out. You mind just sorta chillin with me for the ride..." Here comes that grin again. "...at least till we pick Zane up? He stays just down Willowbranch off St Johns."

You check the time to find it's about twenty after nine.

[Poindexter]

[Isaac's place, Palm Valley, Friday July 14th, 9:03PM]

>>Reply
 >>To: Marcus
  >>Come around 8:30, want to stop for tacos on the way, feelin' like tacos.

>> Reply
  >> Sender: Marcus
    >> Message: SRY BRO! Got caught up wit sum bullshit. On my way right now. C U in 15!

[Isaac's place, Palm Valley, Friday July 14th, 9:45PM]

The super high end halogen headlights come dancing through your windows and you immediately rush outside to meet Marcus. He's pulling up in his ice blue Diabolus. This thing is his baby. His parents bought him one just like it for his 16th birthday, but he got drunk and obliterated it in a month, so they got him another one. It met the same fate. He's on his third one now and he's had it for almost 2 years. He actually believes his folks when they say they wont get him another one, so he treats it like a baby deer.

From the look of his hair and clothes, you can tell he doesn't really know what he's getting into tonight. He's all super flashy, shiney, and hair gelly like yall are about to go to some nice place with drink specials and shit. You debate whether you should tell him or not. You worry that if you did, he'd just take more time to get ready and you're already worrying about being late. With no traffic or bullshit, you're looking at about a 30-40 minute drive to get there.

He rolls down his window and lowers his high end gucci shades before saying all smooth like, "Let's go get us some bitches." with a shit eating grin on his face.