7/10/99

You say "Hey, Clara! I got a new toy!" Ooh, and doesn't he sound excited about it, too. "Want to see? Got revoltingly cute pictures, too." into the communit.

Your communit crackles to life and says "Niko? Well, hello to you too. You're a voice for sore eyes. I'd love to see, just so long as said new toy doesn't involve me having to fix broken bits of Niko." She, in turn, sounds terribly amused. "Cute pictures of the nieces and nephews?" in Clara's voice.

You say "Nieces and nephew and scads of cousins. You have to see it to believe it, really. No broken bones, though, promise. I've sworn off 'em for a while. You in medbay? I'm just off work, so it's easy enough for me to pop over there." into the communit.

Your communit crackles to life and announces "In Medbay, and finishing up work, actually. I'm supposed to have dinner with Corian and Tarrant, but that's a little ways off, I imagine. C'mon over. I think we even have blue cans stashed about." in Clara's voice.

You say "Blue cans, even? Wow, maybe medbay's not scary after all! I'll be over in a few." into the communit.

[Travelspam to medbay deleted.]

Niko pads into the room looking really quite pleased with himself. He's got... a box! Oh, no! Fear the box! And, no, he doesn't look any more tired than he ought. "Go on, go on," he grumbles goodnaturedly, as the green nurse starts for the regenerator, inquiring, "Broken, you are?"

Clara is towards the back of the room, opening a refrigerator unit filled with various medications that need to be kept cool, and oddly enough, a few sixpacks of soda. She tugs a blue can from the cooler and turns back in time to see the fluffy browed security guard and grins. "He's not broken, Doya, but thanks anyway. Check on that fellow in short term for me, will you? I think he still misses all that leather he was wearing."

Doya heads amiably towards short term. "Bikers," he says, with a sigh. "Bikers have not sense. There is much fear in that one. Train him, somebody should. But he is too old."

Niko looks maybe a bit disturbed at the location of the blue can, though he grins cheerfully enough. "Okay, that's just soda in that thing, right?" He casts a look after Doya, then shakes his head, gesturing with the box to a free bit of desk. "Can I put this down there? Isn't heavy or anything, but I can't rummage while I'm holding it."

"Soda and a few extra drugs to make you completely helpless and subjective to the whim of the Chief Medic," Clara replies pleasantly, coming forward to offer over the can. "Just soda, honest. Of course you can, I've been using that desk over there all day," she adds, gesturing at a desk to one side.

Niko waggles his brows good-naturedly as he puts down the box, and starts to rummage through a photocube. "Subject to your every whim, eh? Ela might object to that." Funny, he doesn't say anything about objecting, himself, though. Hey, it's been six minutes. He offers over the 'cube, saying, "If you like, you can look through this while I'm setting up the toy? There's nothing too incriminating, and the ridiculous one is the first." The ridiculous one, it may be noted, is amazingly adorable. Apparently, someone caught Niko asleep in some sort of deck chair, though still cradling little Charis quite protectively. A small army of children has been coaxed into surrounding him, all of whom look rather like they're related to him. Yes, folks, it's a garden of children.

Scarily enough, by Corian's logic, Clara is actually Niko's sister. Sometimes six minutes gets odd. Or is that six dollars? Either way, she leans against the edge of the desk to accept the cube and click it on for perusal. And by the small gasp and the expression of awwwww, it obvious she's found the first picture. Here the clanging biological clock? "Oh, -Niko-, this is -precious-. You and a million children is just too cute for words..."

"Zoey did that," Niko says, looking up from an assemblage of wires--and a smaller box, and... a pair of gloves?--with a fond grin. "Me and all the cousins--or, more likely, the cousins' kids, lots of them. It was really great, getting to see them all, even if poor Ela probably wanted to hide. She's, uh, not quite used to such a massive family."

The other pictures, of course, are not quite so revoltingly cute, but are some cheerful shots of the vacation--various familial pictures, a few pretty suave ones of Niko and Ela, that sort of thing.

Clara clicks through one picture after another, pausing to grin at one point. "Niko Casymed, you and your wife are entirely too cute together to be legal, just so you know." She far too much enjoying the pictures to worry about what mad scientist experiments are being set up on her desk. "But I can see Ela's point. Hard to comprehend being related to -that- many people."

"Well, I have been all my life, so I guess I'm used to it," Niko replies absently. He connects one of the wires, then yanks his hand back as a quiet zapping noise ensues. Well, his reflexes are fine. "Or, rather," he adds, peering briefly at one finger and then flicking a switch before starting the connecting once more, "I grew with it. And Ela's the cute one. I'm just there 'cause she lets me."

Clara glances away from the pictures at the zapping sound with reasonable professional interest, obviously all set to repair broken Niko should need be. "Careful," she murmurs instead, seeing that all is well. "And you are so cute. It's a genetic thing. Did she get on well with your family then? Or get any new cooking tips from your grandmother?"

Niko fiddles with a few more connections, then starts to tug on the gloves. Yup, wires connect to them, so he's going to fry his hands if this thing doesn't work. "Puppies are cute," he protests, with a grin that is, in fact, cute. "And small children, and Ela--only she's absolutely gorgeously beautiful, too. -I'm- not cute. And they all loved her, of course, especially Gigia. She was just thrilled that I'd settled down with a nice Hellenic girl." Apparently, Gigia doesn't know Ela -that- well. Niko reaches down to flick that switch on the box, and a picture appears above it. Looks like some sort of molecule, spiffy.

"Fine, then. Like your brother, you are devastatingly handsome and swoonful, and I'll lay odds Ela would agree with me," Clara notes primly, although the wry look of mischief in her eyes indicates she's trying not to laugh. Still, the molecule gets her attention, even if she is a biologist rather than a chemist. "Ooooh...that is -spiffy-. What are the gloves for?"

Niko, with a few hand movements--no, not -those- hand movements, a twitch or two of a finger--calls up a pulldown menu and brings up a biochemical molecule instead. He's sensitive to the needs of biologists, evil though they may be. "Devastatingly handsome and swoonful," he muses, with a boyish grin. "Okay, I can go for that." He gets rid of the menu, then, and rotates his hands, the three-dimensional molecule rotating with the movements. "This's what the gloves are for. And you can bring up another molecule and show the interactions," he adds, doing just that. "And Van der Waals forces, and that sort of thing. Professor Riordan sent it--he got more with a grant, and thinks that if he sends me enough toys, I'll go back to Evinast for more school." He shakes his head, then, with a brief snort.

Clara extends a hand towards the spinning molecules, not quite touching a bond, but utterly fascinated without a doubt. "Saints, Niko, if he sends you more toys like this, -I'll- move to Evinast and offer to be his grad assistant. This is -neat-. Not to mention helpful...I'd have liked something like this when Riley turned into the jolly green giant."

Niko nods his agreement as he stills the rotation of the molecules. "I can't say that it's not tempting, between the increased funding he's getting and the research applications. But, hey, I'm here. And I figured you might find this thing handy, that's why I'm showing you." He waggles his hands, probably to call attention to the gloves. "Want to play?" Naturally, Doya comes out at that moment, and chides, "Married, you are. Flirt with the pretty doctor, you should not. Tell your wife, I will."

"I need to find out just how he writes up his grant proposals, then," Clara vows firmly, giving the device a wistful, fascinated sigh. "I've been turned down twice, but then Regulus well knows my disinclination towards research." At the mention of trying it out, she extends her own hands eagerly. "Oh, yes please!" she manages before choking back a laugh to inform the nurse seriously, "Ela won't mind. I even take lessons from her, Doya. No problems at all."

"Lessons you take?" Doya inquires. "Pleases Admiral Addison that does, mmmm?" Yes, he's definitely talking about -that-. Bikers, this medbay has, but Doya isn't getting any from him, so he's projecting.

Niko takes a moment to stare at Doya, then murmurs, tugging off the gloves, "Don't want to know, don't -want- to know, he's my brother." He coughs. "Okay, the gloves. The right index finger brings up the molecular menu--sometimes it takes a bit to get the knack of the way to flick it. Right middle finger is the interactions menu, and the right ring finger is for miscellaneous stuff. If you don't have a menu, the molecule or molecules just move with your hands."

You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.

"Of course it pleases him, just so long as I don't set anything on fire," Clara explains to the nurse, casting a quick look of sheer mischeif at Niko. "Besides, Ela's taught me how to use lemons. Everything's better with lemon." Her attention is rapidly drawn back to the gloves though in rapt contemplation as she nods at each of the instructions. "Virtual molecules, got it."

Niko adds, as he offers over the gloves, "Professor Riordan's working on a synthesizer to crank out stuff that you build with this thing. See, you can make your own if you pick the creation file from the miscellaneous menu." Let there be hydrogen! "But he says that'll take a while. Still, it sounds neat, and it'll be handy once he gets it to work." He wrinkles his nose just a bit at Doya's disappointed hmph. "Fire is bad," he murmurs.

Clara is rather vastly amused by the nurse's reaction, her staff being the one group of people she's comfortable enough to joke with without turning ten shades of red. She tugs the gloves on, and although they're slightly oversized, procedes to fiddle with them, ending up with a different biochemical...something. Not quite a molecule, but rather amorphous. "Takes a while to get the hang of this, doesn't it?"

Niko's head rises and falls in a brief nod. "Yup," he agrees. "Here... hold on a sec, there are adjustable bits at the wrists that'll keep the fingers from sliding somewhat. Sorry, I should've mentioned 'em--I can get 'em, if you like?"

Clara holds out her hands with a look of sheer gratitude. "Could you? Gloves have never been something I'm talented with, except the ones that go with my field armor. I even had to get my mother to help with the full length kind for special events."

"Full-length gloves?" Niko queries, as he tugs gently at a flap on one wrist to release the nifty little tie things there. They automatically resize from Niko-size to Clara-size, even shooming down the fingers a bit. "That sounds really obnoxious," he adds, as he fixes the other pseudo-tie as well. "I'm sure you looked great in them, but... not a lot of fun."

Clara wrinkles her nose at the memory, half nodding as she watches the resizing with definite interest. "I'll show you the picture sometime of my debutante ball. Big fluffy white dress, long gloves, and straight hair. Granmere was thrilled. This is entirely too neat," she adds examining one hand after the glove is resized, then tentatively gesturing to bring the drop-down menu into play.

Niko's brows lift slowly at the description, but he shakes his head. "Straight hair's no fun," he says cheerfully, "But a picture'd be entertaining, I'm sure. And the toy's nifty, isn't it? Kind of makes me miss research, disturbing as that sounds."

Clara finally seems to be getting the hang of it after a couple of mystical seeming passes with her hands, ending up creating another biochemical molecule, likely and synapse with all of its glia dependent in glory, especially the ogliogendroglia. "That's highly, highly disturbing, mister. Research is scary stuff. When did you get this?"

"But but," Niko protests, with a put-upon look, "It's fun, sometimes. When I haven't done it in ages, it's fun. And I got it this afternoon, but I wasn't allowed to play with it at work. It started making zapping noises, and Anya asked me to put it away."

Clara snickers absently, manipulating various atoms about in a vaguely kaleidoscopic manner gleefully. "I can't say as I blame her. Poor lady has enough to handle aside from random zapping noises. It almost sounded like a mini regenerator, but much happier. Maybe we should urge a catastrophe so we can do more research?" she suggests facetiously.

Niko nods amiably to that. "I don't blame her, nah. It'd be bad if I'd set Security on fire, very bad. Uh... but no catastrophes, no. I don't want to do research -that- badly. I prefer to have -minor- disasters, really. Promise. The massive ones are just kind of disturbing, and generally end up with people as your customers."

"Keeps me in a job," Clara explains affably, gesturing in a way frighteningly like a Sith mind-whammy, although no one goes running for tuna. "Maybe we should just deliver a few cases of butterscotch pudding to Security," she decides, shifting the diagram to a lactose molecule.

Niko, oddly enough, grins rather cheerfully at -that- particular suggestion. He knows, after all, what butterscotch does to his wife. "Hey, we could throw it at each other, and annoy the cleaning staff. That'd be fun."

Clara mutters something about not saying a -word-, but smirks at the molecule as it interacts with one of something particularly explosive. Fortunately, it's all virtual, so at least she's not causing any kabooms, or better yet, kitchen fires. "I'm not all that up for having pudding thrown at me, I don't think. Not butterscotch at least. Now chocolate, that's a different story."

Niko says cheerfully, "Okay, so we can get folks to throw butterscotch at me and chocolate at you, and Ela and Riley would -both- be happy." He pauses. Yes, he did actually just say that. With a brief shake of his head, he turns his attention back to the molecular interactions. (Hey! Is -your- central atom in its excited state? Chemist humor is sick, yup.)

Zing! Niko is neither medstaff, nor is he Riley, and his words cause Clara to go several shades of red. Fortunately, she's amused through the embarrassment, and reaches over to poke the man in the arm lightly, causing the molecules to spin wildly. "Just so long as Anya doesn't rig our showers. Where is that atom gaining electrons from?" she adds, blinking back at the display and gesturing at one reaction.

Niko seems, for his part, a bit sheepishly embarrassed at the words that escaped him, and mumbles an apology. "Uh... there," he adds, gesturing towards a section of another molecule. "See? The hydroxyl group there, and it's snagging electron density from there, that makes those bits kind of migrate. Isn't chemistry neat?" And, yes, he's serious.

Clara makes another pass with her hands to zoom in on the spot in question to peer at it closely, pauses to smile over reassuringly. "Relax, Niko, no apologies necessary. You're one of my closest friends, it'd be hard for you to offend me." With that, she returns to examination, blinking at the explanation. "But won't this group over here interfere with that? It seems like the electron attraction would be greater over here."

Niko grins faintly at the response to his apology, bobbing his head. Peering towards the zoomed in bit, he nods. "Yeah, ordinarily it would, but, see, there's steric hindrance. The bulky groups prevent the interaction." Chemistry, it seems, is a safer topic than pudding.

Clara would be the first to agree, even if her player knows far more about pudding (although not the various applications of it) than she does chemistry. So instead she safely nods as if understanding all of this. "Which is what caused such a violent reaction when you folks blew the pudding up? Or were there other interactions there?"

Niko says, perfectly deadpan, "I think that would've been the explosives that made the pudding blow up, Clara. I didn't really get a good look at it, though. I was too busy avoiding fire to really see."

You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.

Clara blinks at that, then grimaces over, attempting to poke you in the arm with one elbow. "Yes, yes, of course. A custard reaction, induced by mass explosives," she quips, smirking as she attempts to unfasten one of the gloves from her wrist after letting the molecules vanish.

Niko gestures towards your wrists. "There's a little flappy-thing hiding the ties. That's the technical term," he adds seriously. "That's the way it is in the manuals. 'Look under the little flappy-thing.'"

"Oh-ho..." Clara comments, craning her head down to discover said flappy-thing and unfasten it. "Gotcha. It's one of those highly scientific terms like 'stuff' or 'whatchamacallit'. I swear I actually have medical journals that use those words," she adds with a grin, tugging one of the gloves off.

Niko nods amiably. "And whooziewhatsit. That was actually one of Professor Riordan's favorites. 'Nikolaos,' he imitates, 'Please will you bring me the whooziewhatsit from the bottom drawer.' Like I'd know the difference between that and the whooziewhatsit in the top drawer." He grins, rather amused, then queries, "You done playing? If so, I can turn it off and dismantle it."

From somewhere distressingly nearby comes a loud -zap- sound. Distubingly, it sounds not unlike a giant regenerator. Talk about unpleasant. The sound is followed by an indignant yelp which may or may not be noticed. For you see, as the zap occurs, there's a decided thrum as everything in medbay that isn't on an emergency backup powers down.

Clara tugs the other glove off and offers them both over with a grin that fades along with the mail lights in Medbay, the only lighting a dim ring of lights around the perimeter of the ceiling. "Saints above," she mutters, sighing. "Yeah, you might want to pull it down, and dismantle the supply source. Doya, get the incubators to long term, Giani...get...oh, hells. Giani's not here. Vinkle, the subclteminator, in the vault. Niko...can you help? I can't move some of this stuff."

Niko manages not to add a yelp of his own at the sound. Regenerators, after all, are great and evil things, and he fears them greatly. But he's not broken, no. "Clara, I don't -think- the thing uses that much power, I swear." He flicks off the switch and yanks wires with a few neat little jerks, toppling the thing into the box. "And I can help, sure."

Doya just looks miffed. "Power this room has not. I sense a grave disturbance in the force generators."

Riley arrives from the Second Floor Elevator Lounge.

Riley has arrived.

Riley comes pelting in, a heavy grade flashlight in his off hand. His right hand you see has been a little fried. Apparently he got too close to whatever happened. Sounding a bit strained he calls, "Sorry folks, we had a little bit of a situation. Maintenance is on it."

"Use the backup generator force, Doya, trust your senses and try not to bump into things," Clara suggests with grim humor before half smiling at Niko in patent gratitude. "Thanks, I appreciate it. There's a backup machine for...Riley? Riley, what happened?" Whatever the machine is is forgotten for a moment.

Doya scuttles into another room to deal with something or another, though he pauses a moment, apparently liking the heavy grade flashlight. It makes a light, but it doesn't get hot, very suave!

Niko's brows lift a bit at his brother's appearance, but he nods amiably enough. "We'll get power back, then. Anything critical that needs to be done, Clara?"

From the other room, Doya's voice floats out. "Flirting with your woman, the fluffy-browed one was, Admiral. Ye-es."

Riley does not, however, hand over the flashlight. He needs that! "We can move some things to Maintenance, and Security if need be. The brig's quiet." He winces, padding closer. "We had someone try and set up something to nix the powergrid." He glances significantly at Niko as he says this. "We managed to deflect most of the effect." He doesn't seem to notice Doya, but he's somewhat distracted.

Clara's brows furrow at this before she whirls and barks several more orders to set various nurses and interns to scurrying. Once in a great while, she does reveal that yes, she can be an obnoxious drill sergeant with the best of them. "The patients in short term," she finally offers to Riley and Niko. "There's half a dozen in there with monitors that need power...is the brig sanitary?"

Niko shakes his head. "Isn't right now, but it can be, easy enough, if we put up the force fields and increase the temp, flash-like." With a glance towards Riley, he queries, "The benches are that poly stuff, right? Heat-resistant enough?"

"Yeah," Riley agrees, giving Niko a decidedly grateful look. "And after that, it's on its own power'n water'n air and all that." He shifts, leaning back against a biobed. Wedging the end of the flashlight between himself and the bed, he tugs the cover down, making it into a lantern. He sets it up on a higher surface letting light play over the room.

Clara flashes Riley a distinctly grateful look for the additional light, lab coat making an odd flash in the dimness as she ducks into short term. A moment later, the sound of a whiny male voice makes very loud demands that get louder as he's wheeled out on a wide gurney, monitors attached. "Whatever works is great with me," she manages to get out over, "I'll get a law passed! This Medbay is a disgrace! I'll have it shut down!" "Yes, Senator Gelden."

Niko snags his comm-unit and keys it, Anya's voice answering his murmur. "Well, Tim can do it," he can be heard to say. "He knows how it works." There's a pause. "No, they won't melt." Another pause. "They -won't-, Anya. The Chief said so." Yes, yet another pause. "Kay, thanks. They're getting the brig sterilized, Clara." That would, of course, -not- be to his comm.

Let's just hope Riley's right, hmm? He is, after all, a bit distracted. He probably is though, as the brig's designed to resist even invasion. He winces at the Senator's reaction, although he doesn't seem overly distressed. "It could be worse," he notes. "We could've lost power all over. We nearly did."

"Gelden," Doya remarks as he returns to the main room. "Very obnoxious man. Ought to be gelded. Whack off his fuzzy pompoms, yes."

Clara vanishes out of Medbay, pushing the gurney with the screaming Senator in tow, a nurse on either side and in a complete rush. The three medic types come pelting back, the nurses handling the transfer now that the first is set up. Clara's willing to trust that the brig is sterile for now. "Very obnoxious," she rather agrees with Doya. "What happened, Riley? Was this all an accident?"

You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.

Niko's comm crackles to life and catches his attention, though he keeps half an ear on the explanation.

"Not even remotely I'm afraid," Riley replies, keeping half an eye to the chaos despite a distracted expression. "We had a...terrorist. Tadzer and I managed to stop the device from triggering completely, but the terrorist got away."

Pingpingpingpingping! The machine that goes 'ping' completely eclipses Clara's reaction to this, choosing this time to announce to the world that it's lost primary power and isn't happy about this. Amidst the rushing staff, darkness, and other noises, Medbay is festive. Clara makes her way towards the lanterned light and pauses by Niko worriedly. "Blasted terrorists. I'm glad it wasn't the virtual molecule display, though."

"You and me both," Niko murmurs, comm finally quiet but one hand lifting towards his ear. "That's a neat toy. I'd hate to blame all this on it." His dark eyes rest on Riley for a moment, but he doesn't push whatever it is he's thinking, instead querying, "We get any ID on the terrorist?"

Riley gives in, and takes a couple of steps to one side to sink into a chair. "Uh, yeah, I'm afraid we know exactly who it was. But well, this is a bit public." He looks rather sheepish.

Clara's frown deepens as she peers through the chaotic gloom from one brother to another, then finishes the steps towards Riley to tilts her head at him intently. "You're welcome to use my office? It's dark, but we can rig flashlights."

Niko's bushy brows can't really be seen in the relative dark, except in that they are relatively darker than the rest of his face, but those brows do lift. "Or it could wait," he says slowly. "Whatever works, Riley."

Your ear receiver beeps, followed by Riley's voice, "Guido." It's just one word, but is that not enough?"

Riley just brings up his working hand to tap lightly at his ear. "No need to dash off. Is there anything else we can help with?" He pauses to add to Niko, "Anya's working up search parties, but the individual may well be off the grounds by now."

Clara would be looking more and more disturbed, if the expression were visible in the darkness. "Yeah, actually there is," she explains, stepping back. "In the vault is one of the self-sufficient synthesizers. Could the two of you help me pull it out? It's a four person job, but I figure the two of you together are big enough to be three people."

Niko straightens suddenly. "He--" He cuts off his words, then, nodding to Clara. "Sure, helping. We can do that, yeah. Where do you want it, the brig?"

You communicated "Guido? Did he--are you all right?" to Riley.

Your ear receiver beeps, followed by Riley's voice, "Mostly. The stupid gadget fried my arm, but aside from that."

Riley starts to haul himself up from the chair, nodding. "Depends on how unwieldy it is. I've only the one arm at the moment. But we can yell for somebody else if need be."

You communicated "G--well, not -good-, but not as bad as it could've been, I guess." to Riley.

Clara has already taken a half dozen steps towards the vault, but pulls up short at that bit of news, swirling around to fix Riley with -look-. "You're hurt? You have to -tell- me these things, Addison!" she yelps, exasperated. At least her scanner still works as she darts forward, jumping out of the way of an unwieldy bit of equipment being pushed along, one arm of it sweeping along at arm height near Niko. "Let me see..."

Niko manages to see the arm just before it almost hits him, and ducks appropriately. Well, his ducking has improved, at least. Quack. Now we just have to hope that Becca doesn't do the cross-world thing and come to bonk him. "Kayce and Tim are coming over here, boss," he informs Riley. "We can handle it."

Riley sinks back into the chair, the fried arm still hanging limp. "There's been a limited amount of time to bring such things up." He nods to Niko, not contesting the issue of who's to move generators. "Can you have the folks with any technical know-how help Arthur's search groups?"

Clara drops to her knees, narrowly missing darting intern, and tugs her scanner from her belt, reaching gingerly for the fried arm, sans tziziki sauce. The language of cannibals? "And can I have an estimate when possible of when the backup generators will be up and running? Can you move your arm, Riley? At all?"

Niko just nods, one hand to his ear and lips moving silently. Apparently, he's already doing the ever-descriptive 'stuff'. Kaycen and Tim come into the room, then, as well as two others, the better to move the synthesizer.

Riley shifts said arm with a slight wince, nodding vaguely. "Uh yeah." He considers a moment, "Shortly we hope. The trick's finding the booby traps and disarming them, first." He nods a greeting to the other SecOffs.

Clara wrinkles her nose at this bit of information, already running the scanner over the arm and trying to find a somewhat less cooked bit to hold onto with one hand. "Sharp pain all over the skin, or just in certain places?" she murmurs up, then peers back at the guards with a look of relief. "You're the best, guys. Remind me to bake cookies for you after all this." Wonder if they flee screaming now?

"Cookies are great," Tim says genially. "Just make sure not to bake any people, eh? The Chief already looks perilously close to being an entree." He half-salutes, following the others to do the heavy moving. They are butch men, manly men, men in uniforms. Women see them and swoon. Yeah.

"Not much pain at all, actually. Very little sensation." Riley replies absently, although he looks decidedly worried at the mention of cookie baking. "Um, if we could avoid setting the kitchen on fire until -after- Arthur gets the lights on?" Manly? So they're over there stomping and stepping to thr right?

Niko starts for the door, still half-distracted by whatever's happening in his head--er, that would be the radio. "I'll keep you posted, got to check on something."

You head towards the Second Floor Elevator Lounge.


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