Rafa answered Freya's comment about how he looked with a blank stare for a couple of seconds before ordering a beer.
He checked the credstick and pocketed his immediately. "Well, at least one good thing came out of it. But will ya stop with the mysterious drone crap! What's "from the drone at the studio" even mean? It manufactures credsticks?"
He listened to Freya's speech with a growing frown but let her finish before speaking up.
"Hollywood is a town about trust and discretion? What?
Hate to burst your bubble, but this place is all about money and getting it by attracting as much attention as you possibly can. They've even got friggin' gangs broadcasting their actions for the world to see!
But hey, don't you worry 'bout me, you know me! Discreet is my middle name. I won't go looking for trouble, but if it finds me, I ain't backing away from it.
Anyways, we should probably start with finding out what we're dealing with here before we talk tactics, no?
Where we headed first? Way I figure, we've got three options.
Either we head straight for this Bacchus guy and beat some info out of him. But that's not discreet and I doubt even the airheads of this city'd be dumb enough to carry blackmail material in their pockets or stash it in some coffin motel. Probably best to the moron stays convinced a multi-million business is gonna roll over and lay flat on its belly just for him.
Hunting down the A-Kidz seems like a waste of time, at least for now. If Bacchus ain't with 'em anymore, those spoiled ganger-wanna-be's may have just escaped the beating of a lifetime.
So that leaves the 'scene of the crime' as those CSI-twats would call it, right? Cinderblock motel's where they picked up little miss beetlehead, maybe we could still find something there. Trail's probably getting colder every hour though."
