Kizzie, however, is familiar with questionable. Flapping her light armor jacket to get a bit of air, the elf feeds quickly, skimming through the food bars and getting whatever looks edible -- or, if it isn't edible, is at least good. She doesn't spend much time, however, when she notes the absence of the twins. They're time together, it seemed, was at an end for now.<br/><br/>It was sad but acceptable. She hadn't taken her opportunity to ask about another run and it had been missed. However, she did have one last contact in Louisiana -- they weren't particularly close but she had met the girl a few times, worked with her, even gotten some chrome from her back in Seattle.<br/><br/>Kizzie brought up the Matrix VR interface on her commlink, quickly scrolling through dead or archaic Seattle contacts before finally reaching her street doc. She selected the account and made the call -- it wasn't likely she could get a proper, well-paid run, but at least she could set roots down in New Orleans and maybe ask about the kind of 'ware the True Son commandos were using -- and whether or not it was compatible with a normal street samurai.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>