[b]Yellow:[/b]

[b]Oxytoxin: [/b]Now? No. Bored because I’m barely getting stuff for me to do.
[b]Oxytoxin:[/b] But I’ll say you owe me a favour for this, since I’m spending one on the pickup.
[b]Oxytoxin: [/b]A real one by the way, a job.
[b]Oxytoxin: [/b]I won’t waste your time unless it’s interesting though.
[b]Oxytoxin is typing…[/b]
[b]Oxytoxin is typing…[/b]
[b]Oxytoxin:[/b] Fuck it.
[b]Oxytoxin: [/b]Course the blonde is the one with the bimbofication fetish is all I’m saying.

Wow. Rude. 

[b]Brown:[/b]

NEMEAN 3-31 bobs his head loosely, which could be a nod but could be literally anything. “Cleaning equipment is most commonly manufactured in Hermes, due to the immediate access to mineral imports, and its industrial nature. More specialized equipment with a heavier chemical nature will sometimes be procured from Ares.” He waves an arm over his head, and semaphores something. A cargo hook trundles along the rails above, passing over your crate, to make room for a portable imaging system to stop over you. Like if they built an airport X-ray machine for a cargo container. 

Nemean looks down at a digital clipboard. “This does not appear to be cleaning apparatus. This appears to be information technology.” He puts the clipboard down stiff-armed, only moving at the shoulder. “Which is even less likely to have come from Gaea.”

He has no tone of voice for you to work from, here. He patiently waits for a reply.