"Aye?"  Cocking her head to the side, she looked down at her wrist, the CL1 compute screen lighting up on it.  The irises of her eyes twitched for a few moments, likely cycling through data, before a screen popped up on the mini screen.  It was definately the job listing.  Below it was a message being sent to request assignment, very forma, with a simple address, and a written 'Cypher, followed by another message about an ill tempered cat with psionic powers'.  "I suppose the employer didn't want ta put his name down on the listin', then.  Well, i'll make it clear than.  Still, way I see it, its a simple matter, really.  Yer lookin for a pilot, i'm looking for fleshlings to help me get the job done.  I imagine I can go ta any bar 'ere and find fleshlings with a gun, pilots are a bit of a tricky matter, now aren't they?"<br/><br/>Somehow Darion got the intent that this android would have had an amused smirk, if she had facial expressions.  "So, I imagine we can save eachother a lot o' time and effort, and just go with the way things work out.  Either that or we become rivals ta the same job, and it'd be a wee bit of a shame if I was forced to cut your team in half.  You, bein' dead and all, and me havin' ta scrape all them guts off me exoskeleton. Do you have any idea how hard it is ta clean fleshling off a steel exoskeleton?  Save us both the hassle, lad. "<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>