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"Ah, so you 'aven't seen it yet..."

His mind drifted for a second to the feather still in his sheathe and how he came to posses it. The way Nines spoke, he either hadn't seen his Daemon yet or, it had presented itself to him like the witch had but he didn't consider that to count as actually being there.

"So you aren't interested in 'em at all then? I guess I've 'ad a bit more practice in dealin' with it than you...Still,not by much."

"Aye, dun get all cold on me mate."

Cocking a brow he shrugged it off, before going for yet another cigarette.

"Jus' meant because o' teh b*****d in me noggin'. Sounds like we been poked at by them swords for about teh same time though. 'ey forget it then. We goin' to be workin' together 'ere we gotta 'ave each other's back so i'll drop it."

"We'll be fine. Teh point o' this mission is t' avoid big trouble, not get into it. It's another test from teh boss."

Rolling his shoulders back and curving his spine to crack he was starting to crave some whiskey to wet his whistle after all the consecutive cigarettes.

"'ang me out t' dry? I was jus' worried 'bout you gun slinger."

It was perfectly clear to see that he was just messing with the guy, as he chuckled.

"All we gotta do is knock some 'eads. Business as usual."

Pear shaped... Well they's Egyptian so what're teh odds of there bein' ritualistic nutters. All I'm worried about is teh ********' sand. I ********' hate sand."

Corbin started to wonder just how long Roan was going to be. Sure they were both early, but not by that much he'd half expected to find her or at least Jan present and waiting.

"Everything's a test right? You know the boss jus' loves t' grade everythin'."

"It's unsteady, it gets everywhere 'n' it itches like ********. Las' time I was in a desert I was there a week 'n' I was pullin' teh s**t out o' me hair for two."

Sighing at the prospect of having to go to another sand box he thanked the gods that be he had tougher skin than most with Fortitude otherwise he'd likely avoid it outright. Then there was the matter of the heat in the desert, good thing he couldn't feel that either under normal circumstances. That bothered him least though as they'd likely be working at night of course.

"Jus' one o' those things. We all got 'em... So what's in the bag anyway Rambo?"

"'old on... Was tha' a joke?"

He paused for a moment looking genuinely shocked and almost pissed with Nines. After a couple seconds however he belted out a laugh clapping as he did.

"Suicide vest, wouldn't surprise me I think. Well no doubt better prepared than me for this little excursion. I look about 's camouflaged for Egypt 's a bearded tranny."

"You're not old enough, or dead enough, to be as good at it as me, but blending in isn't hard."

Said by the car behind Corbin, part of it detaching itself to become the Lady herself. Shadows in the front bumper became the creases in her pants, the hose laying across the floor thinned as part of it showed itself to be her tail, the curving blue of the open door becoming pants, jacket, and the red on the wall behind, her hair.

It wasn't that she had changed her outline or colours to blend into the background overtly... more, she had simply been so still and withdrawn inside her own head that the conscious brain simply didn't recognise anyone was there, the sense of personal space didn't activate, and the subconscious just glossed over her presence.
As a result, speaking made her flow back into life and the real world like she was taking a step forwards from a very long way away.

"I'll try and teach you how one day. Nines, you're driving. The Land Rover by the door please."

The ******** is this, eh?

Bad canadian impressions aside, Nines' surprise at Roan's presence manifested in a tensing of his frame as he hoisted his torso to see past Corbin to the origins of the voice. While his fingers remained knitted behind his head, he was visibly tense and ready to break his comfortable pose for something more dynamic. Fortunately...it was just Roan, which didn't mean he could relax, but it did mean he wasn't going to have to scramble a response.

The youngblood groaned softly as he curled up to an upright position, one from which he climbed to his feet. He paused on one knee long enough to sling the strap of his bag over a shoulder, then stood.

Where to?

The question was passed as he turned for the vehicle. He'd offload his kit in the back, then clamber into the driver's seat to await further instruction.