Sam's eyebrow shoots up in surprise. Well now, this... this is interesting. To be perfectly blunt, I don't work with gutter-trash. You approached me, I would assume, because you know of my reputation. You know how I do business. Those gentlemen, and I lose the phrase loosely, are unprofessional and too arrogant to understand the way the world works. I wouldn't trust them to watch my back and I sure as hell am not going to risk my ass watching theirs.

Some of them may be jsut as you say, yes, but everyone in there has their own skills. Not all of them are in personal relations. The money is well worth some differences in personality.

Sam nods, considering his words. So, why come after me? Why not just bring in another asset? I have to imagine it's more then simply not wanting to explain yourself again. I'm thinking you need someone with your interests in mind, someone you already have a leg up on. So, you come to me. Do I have the right of it?

As you say, you already know where I stand. And this matter is of course time sensitive. You also have the necessary skills. That is a difficult combination to find on short notice.

Very well. You have yourself a deal. As you say, skills such as mine would be difficult, if not impossible, to come by this late in the game. I hope this fact is taken into account when final restitution is made.

The johnson produces the cred stick for her binder fee.
Your confederates should be down shortly

Sam slips the credstick into her inner jacket pocket and nods. Turning for the door, she waits for the goon to swing it open. Once outside, she nods again to the Johnson and then waits.
Well, this ought to be fun.
Idly, she removes her suitcoat and unbuttons the top button of her shirt, already beginning to swelter in the Miami heat.

"Right, sounds like we have a plan then! Meet you guys just outside the lobby in fifteen minutes?" Scratch asks as he scoops up the remnants of the fly and slips it into his pocket. While waiting for a reply, he makes his way to the banquet table and slips a couple more beers into his jacket before grabbing a last one for the road. He pops it open with his thumb and takes a swig, lifting his brow inquisitively.

Cloud nods his agreement, he helps himself to some of the fruits and fruit juices before heading out of the room. He stops for his weapons before making his way to the lobby. He makes sure his weapons are unmarked and untampered with before leaving.

Toby sips his drink, watching as the others mill about. Discarding the empty glass on the by now depleted banquet table, he nods to each in turn before his gaze finally settles on the satyr.

"Fifteen minutes then."

With that agreed upon, the mage looks around for a moment as if trying to decide what to do. With a shrug of his shoulders, he turns and mixes yet another drink, then flops himself down in the most comfortable chair in the large chamber, content to wait there until the appointed time arrives.

"Sounds fine by me. I have a few personal effects to retrieve from the hotel rent-a-Star before we depart, I will see you all after that," replies Trigger to Scratch, as well as the assembled group. Collecting his coat and popping one last chocolate into his mouth, Trigger grabs a bottle of English beer from the bar and heads down to the security station in the lobby.

Trying not to let his displeasure at being removed from his foci show to readily on his face, Trigger asks for his effects from the stationed guard. Upon their return he will examine them in detail, making sure they were neither tampered with nor activated in any way. Placing the twisted orichalchum earring into his ear, the bone bracelet on his right wrist, and his faithful golden pocket watch back in his pocket. Feeling secure with his foci back in place, Trigger activates the earring, letting the mana flow through his veins, like pure life coursing through him. Trigger unconsciously lets out a pent up sigh and then moves outside to wait for the others to come down.

Charlie watches the other runners leaving the meeting room one by one, until he finally stands up and heads to the lobby. He gets his stuff back and checks it.

He moves outside to wait for the others.

Whistling an old ditty inbetween swigs of beer, Ol' Scratch heads to his room. Once inside, he throws his guitar case on his bed, unlocks it, and pops the fake guitar up and out of the way. Inside, an almost obscene collection of weapons and gadgets are meticulously arranged within its MAD-proof casing.

He sets his beer down and ponders for a moment to ponder his options. With a shrug, he extends his hidden arm slides and attaches both Death and Taxes to their connections before popping them back up his sleeves. After checking to make sure the slides are working properly, he closes the guitar case and slides it back under his bed before swaggering down to the lobby and outside.

Standing with her back to the glass doors of the lobby, Sam quickly sends off an AR message. Within moments, the response is recieved. Nodding, she waves a hand and the AR display dissapates from her view. Pulling out another cigarette she scans the scene in front of her. The beach is blisteringly white in the sun, and the water a delightful azure. Sam snorts. Probably paying someone a pretty penny to make sure the water stays that clean this close to the resort. Probably dirty as sin a mile out... if that. Catching a reflection in a valet driven car, Sam notices the group come wandering out of the lobby. She turns, jacket slung over one shoulder and unlit cigarette in hand.
Time for the dog and pony show. She stifles a laugh as she remembers the satyr. Hmm.. apt words.

Arriving at the lobby more or less fifteen minutes later 'The Crew' meets back up, with it's sole female again in attendance, and with one mage a bit more inebriated. Quite tipsy in fact.

Stepping through the glass doors out of the hotel lobby, Trigger arches his eyebrow at the female who had walked out of the meeting. Giving her a puzzled look, as if her presence alone would give sufficient answers to his inquiry, he walks from the doorway to her, stopping a few feet away and turning to watch the lobby door as well.

"It's a fine day outside, better than any I have seen back home. It's one of those days that can lift a person's mood, heighten their spirits, perhaps even change their minds, wouldn't you say?"

Sam laughs at the as-subtle-as-a-brick question in his statement. I've had a change of heart. Wouldn't do to leave you gentlemen so high and dry would it? Sam takes a long drag off her cigarette, turning her head to exhale. So, what did I miss? ... and I wonder where our little goat friend has wandered off too.

Before leaving the ballroom, Toby polishes off a couple more daiquiris, then heads towards the door to the lobby. Catching his reflection in one of the ornate floor-to-ceiling mirrors, the mage stops short and examines his image.

This just won't do. Not for a stroll an the beach

Toby weaves a long-familiar spell, watching his reflection as his clothes shift in both color and form until the desired effect is achieved. He nods and smiles crookedly at the image in the mirror. His white deck shoes and perfectly creased ivory trousers are offset by an exceedingly garish, 'tropical tourist' style shirt in vibrant pinks, neon green and electric blue.

Toby staggers slightly as he steps from the lobby into the glaring Miami sun. Squinting even though his state-of-the-art flare compensation kicks in, the mage pulls a tres-chic pair of Oakleys from his shirt pocket and slips them over his eyes.

Only then does he take note of Sam's presence, and does an almost comic double-take before slipping his glasses down his nose to peer over the top of them at the elven woman. A broad smile slowly slides across his face, as he pushes his shades back into place.

"Well-ll. Fancy meeting you here."

Almost as if on cue, each member of the team receives a text message, indteified as from Mr Johnsons' commlink. <<<< Designate - The Crew - Sammael is "on". Carry on as planned. Contact at appointed time. - Johnson>>>>

Sam nods and laughs as she takes in Toby's attire. Well, aren't you... festive. When the alarm for the text registers over her AR, she notes it with a satisfied smile and then waves it away.

While riding the elevator, Ol' Scratch kind of does a little jig when he feels his commlink vibrate in his pocket. Pulling it out, he flips open the display screen and scratches the back of his head. "Who the frag is that guy?"

Figuring things'll work themselves out, he struts his way through the lobby. He catches one of the security guys glaring at him a bit, so he blows him a kiss. just before slipping through the rolling doorway. Upon seeing the other guys chatting up the saucy minx from earlier, he puts two and two together.

"Glad to see you reconsidered," he winks. Reaching into his shirt pocket, he pulls out a pair of designer shades and throws 'em on just before lighting a cancer stick. His eyes quietly scan the perimeter as he does so, looking for anything out of the ordinary...

One of These Things is Not Like the Other...

Cloud takes the message from the Johnson in stride. He is more concerned with staying undetected and spotting anyone or anything who might be looking for him. He waits for a group of guests to pass by before moving into the lobby.

Charlies raises an eyebrow when he spots the elven woman who left the meeting earlier waiting outside the hotel.

Never trust an elf, it says. What about elves who change their mind over important decisions so quickly?

He nods the elf. What a surprise - you're back. What did let you change your mind, if I dare to ask?

(Assuming Cloud doesn't notice anything "interesting") Cloud dismisses the elf's reinclusion in the team as irrelevant, I can't change the J's mind. He focuses on staying as unobstrusive and keeping out of view of the ubiquitious security cameras as possible. He gives a barely perceptible nod to Sam, staying alert.

Sam nods to the assembled group and finishes her cigarette. Ignoring Charlie's question, she nods toward the hotel doors. Do you gentlemen have a more... secure place in mind for discussions?

Toby takes a couple of tentative steps towards the sparkling white shoreline, waving his arm dramatically to indicate the vista.

"Cloud here has suggested a nice, relaxing stroll on the beach."

Sam shrugs and slips her stilleto's off her feet before taking the stairs to the shore.
So, are you all coming or you going to stand there all day?

Ol' Scratch saunters up to the stairs and flashes his trademarked smile. "Beauty before age, love," he replies, gesturing the Human chick towards the stairs.

I should have left my fragging coat inside. At least I have armor on.....

Trigger nods and follows the others to the beach, the sun glistening off the sand, the water, and the tanned, sculpted, and bioengineered bodies of the Miami populace obviously enjoy the fine day outside. Already sweating under the layers of clothing and armor ardorning his body, Trigger adds a pair of cheap sunglasses to his outfit and starts to fan himself off with his hand. I didn't think anything could make me miss the weather in Seattle, but this is just hell compared to the rainy Northwest.

Ah, sea breeze and sunshine... Alright, you enjoyed the weather long enough, now concentrate on the job.

As Cloud exits the lobby and enters the bright Miami sunshine, the flare compensation on his contacts dims the glare long enough for his eyes to get used to the bright daylight. He briefly debates whether to turn his commlink off, afterall, few people bring their commlinks to the beach, he decides to change it to hidden mode.

Sam nods at the satyr and walks down the steps leading onto the beach. At the seawall she stops, waiting for the rest of the group to catch up.
The group seems largely pretty chill... with a few exceptions.

Switching to full lech mode, Ol' Scratch takes a good look at Sammael as she heads down the stairs. "Mmm mmm MMM!" He pulls out his own pair of Oakley MadDogs on and follows suit, his hooves clickity-clacking the entire way down.

"So, where shall we begin, gents?" he asks simply, reaching into his pocket and pulling out some of the fly guts from earlier. He keeps jumbling it about in his hand as everyone meanders about trying to act casual (nevermind that a purple guy and a goat are going to stand out wherever they go). He seems to keep trying to find something in particular as he does so, but the look on his face makes it evident he's not having a bit of luck.

Toby momentarily pulls his gaze from the sparkling ocean vista, tugs his shades down his nose dramatically, and lifts one eyebrow inquiringly.

"Transportation?"

"That seems to be the logical first step, indeed. Charlie growls.

"While transportation is necessary, we still require a location to go to. The sea is a big place. Even if one of you can find a trail on the high seas, I think we should be trying to gather additional information first before heading out. Even if we do not find anything, news that we are looking might provoke a response. A recon by fire."

I think that transportation as a first step is the way to go. After all, we're most likely looking at a boat, right? I don't think any of us have the cred to go in for a submersible... at least not one large enough to do what we need it to do. So, we get a boat... we have a place of operations... a place we can secure. Think of it as a mobile safe house. I say we look into getting the boat and then... or concurrently... work on getting a route and a location.
Sam shrugs at the last part and eyes the small beverages stand down the beach. The beers stuck in a bucket of ice are looking pretty damn good right about now.

Does anyone know how to pilot a boat? Anyone knows how to navigate?Cloud scans his immediate surroundings for any would be eavesdroppers. If not, we'll need to hire an experienced captain. Cloud is deliberately holding his left hand to his mouth and moving his lips as little as possible to thwart lip reading.

Largely oblivious to the majority of the conversation up to this point due to wandering eyes, Cloud's questions seems to temporary snap the satyr out of his oogling for a moment. "Hmm, what? Oh sure, I can pilot and navigate, no problem. Damn, check out the gams on th... erm, yes. Getting a boat shouldn't be hard. Getting a boat that no one will miss, a bit harder. I'd say heading down to a marina and see if we can grease a few palms, maybe find a houseboat or yacht that some rich asshole isn't going to be using for a few months. Definitely the best... way... to go..." And, as quickly it was gained, Ol' Scratch's attention flops back to his other head as a rather meaty ork chick throws a frisby a few meters away.

Toby follows the direction of Sam's gaze and upon noticing the small drink stand he starts wandering slowly in that direction.

"I usually leave the driving to others, but I also know a little something about navigation."

"OK, so who's going shopping at the marina? I don't think we should all go. Just one or 2 persons should suffice. How strict is law enforcement on the seas around here? If we steal a rich guy's yacht, how much motivated is the local coast guard to locate it?"

Fishing around in one of his pockets for the last few minutes trying to find his errant cigarettes, Trigger finally pulls a slightly crumpled cig from his box of AmerInd Spirits, expensive but highly worth it 100% natural organic tobacco cigarettes. Lighting it with a spark between his fingertips, Trigger takes a long drag, exhaling and reinhaling with a french inhale, enjoying the crisp mellow taste rolling across his tongue.

Turning to Cloud, Trigger nods his head in deference to the asian man, as well as the rest of the group, "I can do some minor data mining on local laws, but I don't think I will be of much help scouting out potential vessels, I am not nearly as Miami as the rest of you," he says while looking at everyone except Scratch. The satyr stands out nearly as much as his own purple tinted skin. "Also, walking around magically concealed, even with masking, is just asking for trouble, wouldn't you agree?"

Scratch's attention seems to refocus as soon as the ork babe's troll boyfriend wandered onto the scene, glaring at him with his one good eye.

"Right, well, I think it's safe to say this meeting isn't really going anywhere productive so fuck the talk and let's get some drek going on." He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the remains of the drone he slaughtered earlier, tossing it to Cloud. "You seem to have a bit of knowledge in that sort of thing. See if you can figure out who made it and who it was communicating with. Mr. J may not have wanted to tell us who we're working for, but it'll come in handy if we know what we're looking for. There's a few serial numbers or something etched into some of the circuit boards, so that should hopefully help you get started.

"Professor," he continues after turning to Trigger, his internal joke tickling him to no end, "I doubt finding these local laws will be of any real use. If you're any good at that Matrix shit, how about focusing on any news reports about recent pirate and voodoo-y activities in the area over the last couple of weeks. Might give us a lead as to who to start asking around about."

The satyr turns to Sam and Charlie, his eyes dancing up and down Sammiel's form before continuing on. "Hopefully at least one of you guys have some local guys you can hit up to see if we can score some diving gear, detailed sea charts of the region, and maybe even a little rumormongering that's been going on the black market. If these guys were just hitting the shipment to sell those drones, someone's gotta have heard something about it. And if you guys don't know anyone local, maybe you can try to slip into the local scene and find someone who does?"

"You," he concludes, nodding at Toby, "Feel like coming with me to look at a few marinas to see if we can find one that might work for our plans? No sense just wasting time here wondering if we can do it when we can actually be out doing it..."

And, with that, he reaches into his jacket -- how he's not sweating his ass off is anyone's guess -- and pulls out some freshly-printed cards listing his personal commlink number and radio frequency. "Let's stay in touch and get this shit rolling."

He cocks his brow and flashes a grin out of nowhere that could make a used car salesmen wince with envy.

Caught short just before he reaches the drink stand, Toby pauses as the satyr seems to shift into 'serious mode'. He finds himself nodding along unconsciously as Scratch lays out his ideas.

"Sounds like a plan."

Pausing for a moment as if considering something, Toby then continues tentatively.

"I do know someone with connections right here in Miami. But ..."

He pauses once again to look around at the others.

"But she's the one that hooked me up with this job in the first place."

"I'm no tech guy, but I might know someone who is. I'll see what he can tell me about this. Meanwhile, I think I'd go shopping for gear."

Charlie nods when he listens to Scratch's ideas. I know some people here, but I suspect that they are connected with the field of work we're in. On the other hand, you never know whom they might now. I'll see what I can find out and if I can get some diving gear and sea maps. When will we meet again, gentleman?

Sam smiles as the satyr finishes outlining the plan. The "man" with the plan, I see...
I have a few contacts that make the international waters their home. I'll see what they have to say... Sam pulls another cigarette from the pack and lights it, inhaling quickly before she continues So, are we playing it loose then? Get the intel and then regroup or should we stick with a timetable?
Without really meaning too, Sam directs the question to the satyr, acknowledging him as the leader of their little 'party'.

I am indigo, not plum, you stupid fragging goat...

Trigger offers a friendly smile to the team 'leader' after his suggestion to check in news reports and such instead of laws. "I will see what I can find. I am not the best at codeslinging, but I can make due. If any of you need backup with anything give me a ping here," he says as he pings each of their comms with his comm number. "Also, are we keeping our rooms there," Trigger asks with a nod of his head towards the hotel they just departed, "Or are we finding more private quarters until we set sail?"

Toby lifts his shades and cocks an eye at the purple elf.

"Well, I don't know about you, but I intend to stay here for now. I mean, no point finding new accommodation of we aren't going to be ashore all that long. Besides, I like it here."

He grins and winks at Trigger before letting his shades drop once again.

"Speaking of which, I wouldn't mind making a small stop inside before we head off to the marina."

Cloud takes out his sensors and goes over the bug. He messages Twinkle, Hey, little sister, I have something I need some help with. See if you can get any information as to who this belonged to. I do not appreciate being bugged.

It is 1400. I suggest we meet up for dinner. Say 1900?

"Sounds like a plan. It's might be a good idea to meet up somewhere less obvious than the 'Towers' restaurant though. I know a nice little place near the corner of Dade and Washington called 'Le Papillon' that we could use. How's everyone feel about french cuisine?"