Abran has spent the better part of the day moving into the new digs, and getting a feel for the lay of the land in the surrounding area. It's dangerous, no doubt, but the expansive base of operations is secure, and he thinks that it will do nicely. When Max lets Abran know that they're running as a duo, at least for the short term, and that the pressure is still on them to produce, to say nothing about how Skids and his crew would react to radio silence and nothing done on their part, Abran wracks his brain for some avenue of building the case, but when all of Undercover Operations are handled in one three-credit course at the uni, he's unsure where else to turn in the short term.
He sets down a box of noodles in front of his superior officer, and begins slurping away at his own in the common room. "Well, sir, I mean, I mean Max, without a bone coming in from headquarters, I'm not sure what else we can do besides go and put eyes on some Halloweener joints and see what comes of it. We could also see about getting a jacket or two for some still-living lieutenants, and maybe have a chat with one of them? You're a mojo slinger, right? You have any of that, make-a-fragger-look-different wizzers? I mean, I bet we could press pretty hard to get the answers we're looking for, but it could make the rest of the job harder to pull off, scan?"
