"Way too soon to ask me that," Truck laughed and began to shut the desk down.
"Any sign of Hoot Gaas?" Rivqua asked, glancing towards Fishhead on the opposite side of the room, riveted to the bank of monitors.
"Not so much as a feather," said the scaly technician. "I'd fire him if I could. But you see, I can't! He's my boss." Fishhead swiveled round, quivering in frustration. "See my problem there? And that's just one of them! Thanks a lot, Hoot!" he shouted into the air and spun right back to gaze hard at the screens. He pressed the intercom. "Ziffo, go check on the two-headed lounge lizard over by table eight. What's he got in his hand, dice?"
"I'll check it out, sir," replied a droid-ish voice. After a few seconds the droid came back, "Looks like prayer cubes, sir."
"Ha! Good luck with that, hypocrite," Fishhead muttered.
"Alright, I'm done," Truck said and shook herself down, her white fur flying. "Let's call it."
They made for the door and Rivqua told Fishhead, "I sure hope he shows up. There's some practical matters we need sorting out with him."
"Good luck with that too," Fishhead said, eyes glued to the monitors.
A ping and the elevator stopped on the twelfth floor. Truck and the Blonde Plutoz stepped out. A couple of giggling insectoid aliens stood there, waiting to head down. They jumped at the sight of the big snowman-woman, then laughed at their own tipsy reaction. Truck passed them without a look.
"Did well, yous two," she said, stopping by her door.
"And you, Truck," Rivqua smiled back at their sound technician. "Same again tomorrow, eh?"
"In it for the long haul," Truck sighed and went in. Zana unhooked her guitar.
"First, Fadda Bing is killed and now Hoot Gaas is gone," Rivqua said, opening their door, sounding like a hard-thinking detective, "Question is, are the two incidents connected?"
Zana made a mock snoring noise, too tired to care, and dragged her feet inside.
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