Unsurprisingly the girl was someone you could just comfortably chew the fat with. It was one of the parts of being an info broker, being able to keep your clients and that meant making a positive impression on them. His remark was met with a laugh that he would like to chalk as genuine, but if money would have been at stake he would have gone for it being there for the sake of politeness thanks to the point he'd just gone over. Apparently she was used to stuff like that. "Well I should consider celebrating my birthdays then. If only I had the faintest idea when they are. If interesting stuff like this takes place often, I* wouldn't want to miss it all", he quipped, rubbing the underside of his nose with his knuckles.

Oddly enough, what followed was an explanation for why she acted like she was begging for a hail of bullets on herself. Apparently it was a trade secret or something like that, having to take the chances when possible. Croaks pushed air through his nose and gave a laugh at the whole shebang, catching the eyes of his accomplice for a brief second. "Yeah, but being a guest and taking your advantages don't include shaving off a whole grand total of nothing just for the opportunity to get shot if any gangster happens to have an itchy trigger finger. Look, if you are an info broker you can't be as innocent as you look. No matter what you look like. You ain't the first we run business with, and you wouldn't be the first that sold our info if you did. But that doesn't mean you can just rush into a bar full of armed people on who the fuck knows what drugs and pray their boss bails your ass out. It ain't gonna work out some time and you'll be sorry." He felt like a big brother or something saying all that. Not necessarily a good thing, considering she wasn't all that bad looking a chick. He sighed, letting the matter lay aside for now.

When it had finally turned out the guy they had caught wasn't braindead after all, Croaks had felt hope rise in his chest. Yet as soon as the biker had opened his lousy mouth, it had all collapsed onto an even lower level than before. Count the missteps: Thinking they have something to bargain with. Giving incomplete information. Being goddamn annoying to trying to make any sense out of. And as soon as that was pointed out, go on a fucking bender about who the fuck even knows at this point. And he physically inconvenienced his captors. But before he had put the gun singing, Nina had put her leg swinging. Double crack, kneecaps gone. Nice.

Though he approved of the return gesture, Croaks shook his head as he rose to his feet, speaking in a low volume possibly audible over the screams of bloody murder and agony coming from the near useless captive. "Hey, all you would have had to do was ask", he pointed out as he levelled his gun towards the broken knees and put a bullet through each for good measure, the shots of the weapon ringing way too loudly in the enclosed space. Though it was nothing Croaks wouldn't be used to by now. He didn't need to hear to get the next part out of his mouth, slamming the bottom of his foot on the hurting man's chest just to drive a point home and levelling his gun to point on the right side of the man's chest. His right, to be precise.

"ALL RIGHT FUCKO IN CASE I WASN'T CLEAR THIS STILL ISN'T YOUR GODDAMN WATER CLOSET!" he opened up with a strong statement and took his finger out from the trigger guard for just a second to remind the man that the other man with a gun, working legs and twice the muscle[sup][[color=lightblue]citation needed[/color]][/sup] had all this and wasn't afraid to put them into use. "SO UNLESS YOU ARE GOING TO START SINGING RIGHT ABOUT FUCKING NOW, LOUD AND CLEAR, YOU ARE NOT GOING TO BE SITTING IN THAT CHAIR FOR A MINUTE LONGER!"

The man wasn't still containing his screaming, so Croaks flicked his gun upwards and took a shot at the reinforced wall next to the man's head. "Oh I'm sorry, I didn't quite hear what it was that you said. You about to talk or scream a bit more, [b]huh!?[/b]" he required, now finally getting through to the snivelling oaf.

"Fortress! That's what she works for, Scarlett!" the man yelled over the ringing in their own ears, but what was that if not just names. And as far as names came in Night City, you might as well have given a password without a username associated with it.

Croaks wasn't fooled. This was worth fucking nothing, and he wasn't afraid to let the man know it. "That ain't worth shit and you know it! You aren't just not housebroken, but also take us for drooling imbeciles, [b]huh!?[/b]" he yelled out, giving the man exactly one second to defend himself. Thankfully he actually made some use out of it.

"She's a sneaky bastard, and good at fighting okay? Dog like to her boss too, not allowed to drive anything, you get?" Well, it was something Croaks had to admit. But that wouldn't lead them anywhere. The 'was that all' look he gave the man apparently more fuel, and he soon continued: "I- I know where you can find her! I'll show you! Just…" he tried before ending up cut off by Croaks.

"No need lad. You ain't going far with those legs aaaaany time soon. Where are we going?" the bigger gangster asked. Two seconds passed. The gun in Croaks's hands cracked again, a bullet splatting clean through the captive's lung, causing another screaming fit. "Well this guy doesn't know shit… cover yo ears", Croaks lamented, taking aim again. One through the stomach. Two on the other side of his ribcage. And one through the cranium. "Wouldn't wanna be the guy to clean that up", he commented at the resulting mess, unable to hear himself over his ringing ears. But soon they began settling again. Good thing with these police force guns, partial suppression came built in. No idea why, but it was awfully convenient.

He sighed, snapping the safety back on and taking a look at Nina. "We got a bit carried away there huh? Want a drink now? Ain't got much leads to follow with this shitpickle knowing fucking nothing", he complained, turning for the door behind them and looking outside for a second. A couple gang members were already on their way with cleaning supplies, not looking all too happy about it.

[@13org]