<em>First.  Watching a girl with daddy issues.</em>Irina sent back.  She headed for the subway, not bothering to take a seat as she was only going a couple of stops.  She came out near a large garage, automated thankfully, that held her Honda GM-3220.  She took a moment, in the private stall she rented, to pull off her chameleon suit.  She stuffed it into her trunk along with her sword and guns, then tucked her Cougar fineblade into her coat.  She was careful to conceal it, not wanting to be unarmed within the Inferno.<br/><br/>Once she was down to her form-fitted armour and her coat, she pulled up her mask to hide her identity, then climbed into the driver's seat and headed for the Inferno.  She looked, under the coat, like she was wearing body paint and not armour.  There were small bumps that hinted at her nipples and she had a permanent wedgie.  Her face however, due to the mask, was nothing but a featureless series of dents and bumps.  Even facial recognition software wouldn't be able to guess at who she was.<br/><br/><em>I'm not a babysitter.</em>Irina sent back to Shelly.<em>You keep her from frying her brain on Nitro.  I keep someone from stabbing her in the back.</em>