Out on the deck of the cruise ship, far away from the squabbling Bloodlines, two figures leaned against the railing facing the docks.

The taller one, a towering older man wearing a stiff suit as grey as his close-cropped hair, was looking decidedly bored as he fidgeted with his hands, cracking his knuckles one by one.  [color=929292]"Are they fucking here yet?"[/color]

The girl next to him had her arms folded atop the railing, and remained completely still as she stared off into the distance, as if lost in a daydream. [color=b536da]"No."[/color]

[color=929292]"Little shits."[/color] The man scowled. [color=929292]"Is this what we are now? Fucking babysitters?"[/color]

[color=b536da]"They're not [i]all[/i] that young. Which you'd know if we'd actually gone to the briefing-"[/color]

[color=929292]"Oh [i]yes[/i], I'd have [i]loved[/i] to go and eat ice cream with the bloody AMRO Girl Scouts!  Such a fucking [i]shame[/i] we were too busy..."[/color] He paused, squinting.  [color=929292]"What the fuck were we supposed to be doing again?"[/color]

[color=b536da]"Keeping an eye on the ship."[/color] The girl's tone was distracted, as if she were only barely paying attention to the conversation.

Her companion barreled on regardless, nodding to himself.  [color=929292]"That's right. Standing guard, making sure the Magic Mafia behave themselves."[/color]  He paused, glancing towards her.  [color=929292]"You [i]are[/i] keeping an eye on them, right?"[/color]

[color=b536da]"Mmm."[/color]

[color=929292]"Good. That lot needs even more babysitting than the soft-serve brigade. Fucking Bloodlines..."[/color]

Maya Song tuned her partner out as he rambled on about the childishness and stupidity of the various families.  She could tell him that they were probably listening in, but she doubted that Jim Dancer would particularly care.  He was a pot calling kettles black, in this case, but she was happy to let him rant on as he pleased, so long as he didn't disturb her [i]real[/i] focus.

A pair of carefully-hidden sigils were pulling in and capturing light from all around where the Bloodlines were gathered, feeding a stream of images to the brown-haired Asylum leaning against the railing.  More versatile and less noticeable than security cameras, and also less likely to be hacked.  It was a tricky piece of alchemy, however, and Dancer was feeling the drain.  His constant stream of complaints and insults were his way of holding onto his sanity, and served as a barometer for her to tell just how worked up he was getting.

For now, he was okay, relatively speaking.  The Bloodlines were being antagonistic as usual, but they weren't doing anything quite nasty enough to warrant intervention just yet.  All she had to do was keep everything copacetic until-

[color=929292]"They're here."[/color]

Letting her surveillance drop out of focus for a moment, Maya looked down towards the docks, easily picking out the rapidly approaching band of Asylums.  They certainly weren't hard to distinguish, even from a distance.  She glanced towards Jim. [color=b536da]"Be polite, okay?"[/color]

[color=929292]"Right."[/color] Even as he said this, Dancer was looking at the other AMRO operatives with a look of utter disdain on his face.  Before Song could do anything to stop him, he'd cupped his hands around his mouth, and roared down at them as they neared the cruiser.

[color=929292]"GET ON FUCKING BOARD!"[/color]