The Agent laughs.
"The neuralizers are on backorder, so are the Raybans."
He then smirks.
"Although Q is coming up with some toys, James."

In reply to Agent McGee (msg # 170):

Daniel quirks an eyebrow in his best 'vulcan' way, "Don't you mean Agent McQ, Agent McG? Let's keep the movie references American. Good practice for an ICE cover story." He directs his next comment at Rover, "God ICE is our best cover story..."
This message was last edited by the player at 05:15, Tue 21 Sept 2021.

The bullet holes cover rather nicely with the sheetrocking compound and someone happens to find paint that kind of matches to cover them.

 Sheetrock's expensive stuff... Killian's got a tube of dollar-store approximate-grout, a few sample tins of paint that more or less match and a bucket of sand to throw over the bloodstains (although the acid drizzle from the return fire is a little more challenging), the general domesticity of the task taking a good ten minutes or so during which time presumably the police are able to address the pickup of the demon biker(s) and generally get their shit in a sack.

 Once the building looks more or less back to normal, he wheels the battered bikes around back so as to keep them out of the way of normal parking then looks in on Gretchen and the manager (in that order) to check they're both okay (and neither has orders for him).
This message was last edited by the player at 07:33, Fri 24 Sept 2021.

Daniel turns to the Man in Black, "What do you want to do about the guy in the hoodie?" He gestures to Ilyas.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:43, Wed 22 Sept 2021.

"That depends on you, do you think we just need to do a quick check on him to make sure his papers are in order or do we need to haul him into the local offices for questioning?" Agent Mcgee said.

"Our lead researcher is a James Bond buff. So Q is his callsign, make one up or you'll get stuck with one like mine."

In reply to Storyteller (msg # 175):

Daniel shrugs, "Ranger. Forest, not Park. I don't know the guy, so I can't vouch for him. Besides, I can get a sidearm at the office...and find out where the hell it is."

"Alright then, shall we go "question" a "suspicious individual"? He says as he reaches into his coat and puts on a pair of gloves.

 Killian continues to wait for a response from the manager and Gretchen, since the former may have changed his mind about the nights plans after the gun battle in the parking lot, and the latter may be kind of annoyed about the inexplicable arrest attempt.

"Well, we might have to close a little early tonight due to the "activities" in the parking lot.

Daniel shrugs and follows McGee, Rover at his side.

 "Activities? I guess that's one way to describe a gunfight... Makes sense though, business is going to be shitty all night with those cops around." Killian agrees, rubbing his chin with the faint rasping sound of scale on rough scale masquerading as skin on stubble.

"Go home to your girlfriend, heck I caught some of the action with her and the cops.
She'll likely need someone to talk to that isn't her roommate. If it was earlier, I'd say get her chocolates and flowers." Craig says as he starts dialing a series of numbers to report things to the right people.

 "Chocolate and flowers? Ehhh, she's more of a steak and bottle of Jack kind of lady... But truth be told, that's a pretty good idea." Killian answers, chewing on the idea for a minute before deciding that yes, with his raise he can actually afford that.

 Heading out of the office with a "Thanks boss." he goes looking for 'Gretchen'.

Grrshka is at home, wailing away on a heavy bag with her hands wrapped.

 Killian spends ten minutes or so looking for her at work before their mutual tabaxi friend let's him in on her having headed home and he makes his apologies, grabs his jacket and heads for her place via a half decent store where he picks up a good steak and a bottle of something that'll burn going down, then via his place where he picks up an iron skillet.

 Shortly afterwards, he's letting himself into her apartment without a word and seeing up in the kitchen while she pounds seven bells of hell out of the bag - better it then him

"Just give me a couple of minutes to cool down. You can start the steak-the rarer the better. We need to talk."

 "As if I wasn't  worried enough already." Killian rumbles with some small amusement while heading towards the kitchen - pausing to lightly bite her scruff affectionately - where he sets to rummaging through the cupboards for the handful of kitchen tools he's either bullied her into buying or left here himself.

 With precision and competence that would shock his co-workers he makes with a tenderiser and salt then pre-heats a cast iron pan, humming with the sort of contentment that even the day he's had can't seriously disrupt.

The gnoll woman leans against the door holding a towel looped around her neck.
"I understand your reluctance to work with those humans..." She spits the word human
"...but we seem to have a problem now. We've been living under the radar for so long and all it would take is for them to take a closer look at our paperwork that isn't the best.
This life is more complex and better than in the hordes of The Butcher. There we pillaged and burned civilizations with his blessing, now there is organized governments; things that would drive gnomes crazy in their complexity..." She lets out a chuff of laughter.
"I don't want to lose this."

 Turning away from the pan, after flipping the steak to cook it evenly Killian crosses the small amount of space the kitchen affords then reaches out to take her hips in hand, drawing them together and resting his head on her towel.

 "I still don't remember much. Swamps. Stone weapons. Killing intruders, blood in the water." he murmurs gruffly "I doubt I'd even have met a Gnoll without a weapon in hand, let alone... Well." his hand shifts, gripping the scruff at the beach of her neck to press their foreheads together "This relationship might have started out as your idea... And we've each taken our share of wounds from it... But I don't want to lose it either. I take it you want me to tell the asshole I'm on board, even after what he did to you?"

"In spite of what he did. These humans can be rough to deal with, but maybe by accepting his offer we can make it easier?"

A yowl comes from the other bedroom.
"Dammit,cut the sappy stuff! Some steak would be great!"

 Their relationship was largely her idea - Gnolls having an aggressive matriarchal streak a mile wide - but it's developed a lot since that point, much to their mutual surprise and the burly lizardfolk is opening his jaws to kiss her around a gruff "Then that's it, I suppose. I'll let Scrappy know..."

 Just in time for the yowl to stall matters abruptly, a fond sigh escaping his jaws as they close so he can call back "It'll be ready in about three minutes. You're doing the dishes though!"

"Dishes are no problem. Hey Kills, when do ya think the diner'll be back open?" She says looking at you.

 Gretchen's Tabaxi room-mate has walked in on worse things than a modestly romantic hug before now so she doesn't get more than a risk look from Killian.

 "Hard to say. But it'll probably be sooner now I've agreed to help that racist piece of shit with his investigations." - which is where his keen sense of timing draws him away and back to the steak, now freshly apportioned three ways instead of two (and fortunately, a fairly mighty slab to begin with).

 Barring interruptions, the evening progresses to the point where Killian can signal his reluctant agreement to the agent, possibly by way of Scrappy.