Drake pulled on the skin on his face, showing the red flesh under his eyelids as he audibly groaned. She had neglected to answer any of his questions, or any of his fellow cephalophore's questions. He had no doubt this was intentional and if he was apprehensive before, he was sure she was just sending more sheep to her slaughter. Her attempts at goading his masculine bravado only made him roll his eyes. He was never a proud man, but he sighed knowing this night was going to end in his own death one way or another. 

Drake waited patiently for her to reply to Edward before he butted in, motion about at the empty warehouse.
[Center][color=olive]"What supplies? This has got to be the warehouse with the least wares and the most wear I've ever seen" [/color][/center]

His anger had boiled over now, and Drake was defeated. He saw no way out and his voice reflected his desperation in a grimy sarcasm.

[Center][color=olive]"So who's ride are we taking, stranger?" [/color][/Center]
He added, turning his attention to Edward with a fake smarmy smile.
[Center][color=olive]"Hopefully not mine, it nearly croaked on the way here. Doesn't pay to be an Anarch, evidently!"[/color][/center]