Baz watches the LT get decked by O'Toole. His sharp Highland accent returns as a grin spreads across his face. "Lass" he declares with aplomb. "I havenae ever seen a sweet ae blow as tha'. The only way it couldae been better was if ye'd have caved the back of his hae' in and been done wi' the bugger." He sniffs. "Man couldnae arrange a piss-up* in a whiskey distillery, and he's only gonnae get ye all killed. Fact is, ye leave him here or I'll slit the bastard's throat. Man's got balls smaller than a grain ae sand. I won't let him kill ye with his cowardice. I like ye all too much fer that!"<br/><br/>Baz nods to Chiro, looking over at the safe-house's door<br/><br/>The safe-house door opens, to reveal a tall human woman, dressed in a white tank-top and a green, white and yellow kilt. She blinks, spots baz, and grins. "Och! Friends ae Baz, eh?" she says. "Come on in, there's hot water in the kettle, coffee in the pot and whiskey distillin' in the back room. Ye need tae tool up? We got shotguns, assault rifles, daggers, knives, pistols... if it's a weapon, we prolly got one. Until ye decide to leave..." She turns her back, revealing a blue square tatooed on the back of her skull. "Yer workin' wi' the only truly multi-species equal-opportunity bunch ae' nutcases in the world- the Slayer Cult. We also got medical supplies... Hamish said he smelled blood when ye pulled up"<br/><br/>Baz grins, vaulting down from the truck. "C'mon! How ya been, Sara?" He leaps up and hugs the girl, then drops down and beckons to everyone, entering the dark depths of the Slayer Cult safehouse<br/><br/><br/>((*British slang for Party))