Rico Rodriguez, Int. Affairs's page

"If we die, we die with dignity, for the Chief! AMBRUS VALSIN!"

"The problem being, the one time we really, really needed to be stealthy, the foreman on the job was a dang'd halfling. Luckily some of us are smarter than others and we were able to keep going in Celestial."

Calm down, calm down. Anything you've heard about SWAT needs to be documented, verified, and filed.

Can't have any slander now, can we?

"We're gonna fill her up." - Referring to her influence check boxes.

"I'll keep an eye on the spy. You know. Make sure she doesn't cause trouble."

"At least there's a proper library..."

"Smoking room... just like they took away from the station."

"I'm not trying to be racist, but if there's anything dark magic-y going on, my money's on Xar'ku."

"Make an impression, that means keep it in your pants."

Finally finding the bar, Rico looks around suspiciously.

"How by Abadar's Coin did you guys get approval for this place?"

"There are some people sensitive about details that may want to have their own experiences boys. I think they get the point - we have fun, we get stuff done. Repeatedly."

If that's not proof you can't beat anything in spite of labels, I don't know what is.

You can't possibly be suggesting that this rag-tag group of immature law enforcers is some sort of... underdog story?

Or, even worse, that we are some sort of example that a completely in-character group can accomplish complex scenarios with as much efficiency as those that simply reference numbers, dice, and character sheets?

Sporting his APD jacket and hat, Rico strides into the bar, his pepperbox just visible on his right side when his arm swings back. He's got confidence - he's got awareness - he's got a notebook - he knows he's no longer a rookie.

"Yo, Dicky, staying clean? What's on the menu today, or do I even need to ask?" he shouts, making his way to the bar.