Vincent Carter's page

Vincent turns over his shoulder and makes a quick wave with his cyberarm back at Khalil as he continues down the route highlighted by his muse.

Vincent grits his teeth in a forced smile. "No offence, milady, but I am needed elsewhere." He sends a mesh message to the group. [A bit of a holdup here.]

Kinesics with Aptitude:Coordination 1: 4d3 - 8 ⇒ (1, 2, 1, 1) - 8 = -3
Alertness: 4d3 - 8 + 1 ⇒ (2, 1, 2, 1) - 8 + 1 = -1
Vincent follows out the service entrance, doing his best to wheel and stumble around gawkers in the street party, while using his height and AR to keep tabs both on the group of co-conspirators and potential hostiles lurking in the crowd.

Vincent shrugs and gestures the sum and the key to his muse.
[Skidt. I'm suddenly realising why Khahlil wanted so many here. You don't have to outrun the eSPos, just the slowest person in the group.]

He snaps the wired plug out of his neck and sighs. "Red, might need to borrow a tack-hammer. Right now all I have a penknife, sparky fingers, and the grin of an awkward tourist with a tenuous visa." As if to make a point, he concentrates on his right hand and makes a small static discharge jump from forefinger to thumb, before waving with both hands to gesture outside the booth.

Vincent relaxes and sighs once the scope of the transport and its guards flashes into view. Though I doubt she would have contacted us if there weren't some way for things to belly up. He glances toward Khahlil.[@Khahlil: Mind screwdriver?]
[I do admit, a swindle sounds better than going in with sabres drawn, especially against three corp bluecollars on a road trip. We could make a duplicate case, wouldn't be that hard to fab—oh. Scratch that; Mars, artificial scarcity, etc. Since it also falls under 'logistics', what's the payment for this little endeavour?]

Vincent taps his cyberhand, as his muse starts drawing up roadway diagrams for the highways and flyways between the two, and collates data on regional politics. [Biotics headed for one of the centers of Movement support. Gut says it's terraforming-related...it's also half the planet between start and end, not including glacier detour. What type of transport's available for this merry crew? Better questions: expected opposition, and sources to acquire gear to discourage said opposition?]

Vincent nods and pockets the RF jammer, as he sockets his end of the cable.

Vincent taps an osseointegrated plastic-and-metal port behind his right earlobe, the cover receding. "You have a method of wideband RF jamming to foil MitB sniffing? Or would that be too blunt for the folks with networked toys?" He draws a device the size of a pack of playing cards with a switch and a series of LED lights on the side and sets it on the table in front of him as he accepts a cable.

Vincent gives a polite nod back and briefly glances at the familiar-looking Fury, before turning back to Smythe. "Boringly Jovian, especially considering the past squabbles on the subject. Then again, you have seasons. And weather. 'Tomorrow: one-eighty below and dark with a chance of methe-rain' gets old from a meteorological perspective. How many are we expecting?"

Nice to see that regardless of where, people still appreciate the excuse of a festival. Vincent notices the octopus tattoo and makes a curt two-fingered wave of acknowledgement with his right hand before squeezing into the booth, his sand-colored hair brushing against the wall as he squeezes his gangly 196 cm frame in. Grey-blue eyes flutter and his graphite-colored cybernetic left arm's hand counts on the inside of its knuckles as his right hand straightens something approximating a buttonless polo, before taking a mental inventory of the antiquated pockets on his smart-khakis.

Given the size of the booth, he briefly glances outside and waits for the others sure to follow before the thought that had been occupying him escapes his lips. "How does one calculate a moveable feast on Mars? Is it a straight conversion from Earth-Gregorian or Julian UTC to AMT? Calculated locally on Darian or Mars-Julian?"