[Necrogigas]

O'Connor snickered, "I don't exactly have the ideal weapon, or spare ammo, for trading shots between moving targets, but I like livin' on the edge. I'll get us through it, one way or the other. I got fiddy bucks on you fraggin' up anyway."

[RHat]

"Yeah, figured you'd be up for it no matter what.  How about you, Clem?  You figure on keeping us in one piece if things go sideways?"

[HydroRaven]

"I'll keep on driving if that's what you mean" answered Clem, concentrating on the road. "Just don't get caught, but if you do, let me know where they're coming from, Red."

[farothel]

Sammy's rollend her eyes, but she was used to this.  At least Matt seemed to know the guy and they seemed to like each other.  That could be a bonus.  Maybe they could arrange for a slightly better drop-off spot.  Something to see when the others arrived.

[Crossbow]

"Oh HO!" the man acts offended at the eyeroll, but it is clear he is still teasingly flirting, "I gotta be mistaken, this puta has too much class for you, even if you both tuskers.  Maybe I got a chance after all."

He reaches up to expose his pointed ears from under the bandanna and walks up close to Sammy, his elven metatype now displayed.  "What you think chica?  Is a dandy muncher worth your time?  You know what they say: Once you go fae, there is NO other way."  The headband moves with an exaggerated brow raise.

[RHat]

Back in the car, O'Connor, Clem, and Icarus can see Fionn's meat body thrash around for a moment, his head smashing back against the headrest of his seat.  A small trickle of blood trails down from his left ear.

"I'm in." He mutters some curse in Gaelic.  "Looking for holes in the sensor array now before I risk messing with the sensors and cameras directly.  Good news is I can't see you guys on any of the camera feeds, which given his coverage should definitely be possible.  Looks like the spirit has that much covered for now at least."

[Necrogigas]

O'Connor looked Red over, "Is the thrashing and ear bleeding normal for you techno-mages?"

[RHat]

"Normal isn't the word I'd use, but it happens.  There's a reason why most VR hardware has an override for the reticular activating system.  And the bleeding's just bad Fading - don't worry, I've had much worse."

[Necrogigas]

O'Connor scoffed at Red, "I ain't fraggin' worried 'bout you dipshit. I was just wonderin' if that might be sign of whether I'm gonna win this bet or not."

[RHat]

"Oh, go ahead and assume you're losing the bet."

[HydroRaven]

"Shut up, Con" said Clementine. "No interfering with the bet. The Matrix can be such a dangerous place after all" continues the Orkish woman, with a hit of sarcasm in her voice.

[Necrogigas]

O'Connor replied in mock protest, "What I'd do?" He suddenly turned to look out the side window and yelled in a blatantly fake and over-the-top manner, "OH SHIT! CLEM, LOOK OUT!!!"

[HydroRaven]

Clementine tries to swerve the Jeep in a way that O'Connor hits his head on his rifle.

Driving test (8d6.hits(5)=2)

[Thvor]

Sam climbed out of the comet, carefully leaning on his cane and limping slightly. He watched Sammy's interaction with the smuggler for a while, keeping his face calm while chuckling on the inside. Brave or very foolish, this one. She could probably fold him in half while toasting his brains if he's not careful, he thought. Probably best to not let it get that far.

Stepping forward, he greeted the elf in Spanish. "Hello, friend. You must be the ride Mr. Mazarini has offered us. I see you've already met my assistant, and I believe you know Mr. Matthew. Once the rest of my crew arrives, we'll be able to get underway. Mind showing us your...transportation?"


For the fun of it, perception and judge intentions rolls on the smuggler:
Perception (visual specialization): 12d6.hits(5)=4
Judge Intentions: 14d6.hits(5)=2

I'm assuming that casual conversation like this doesn't require Sam to roll a language check.

[Crossbow]

@Torley What you get is a sense that this sense that this gentleman is that he is indeed your pilot, and the only falsehood is the affected exaggeration of the street banger character he is putting up.

You notice scars, which might correspond to the old school jacks of the wired Vehicle Control Rigs of ages past, which would, although it is hard to tell with an elf obviously, put him as decades older than the hotshot gutter trash kid he is performing as.

"Yep, that's me ese, hottest stick in the PNW.  My name is Enrique Gustavo Jesus Rodrigo Montenegro Gutierrez-Mendez, but everybody just call me Jesus [HEH-soos] cuz that's all they remember."  He clearly understands your words but still replies in English. "Sure I can show you the Ghost, c'mon ese."