Kamda

Leaned up against a very luxuriously crafted speederbike, Tybalt Pokosta sat under the afternoon son. Around him was the life of the city, but the street he was on was relatively quiet. That was because he was sat watching a hospital, a rather large hospital but this was a road behind it. From here though he saw just the side of the building he wanted to think on.

As such, he sat here for a while. Enjoying the day alone with his thoughts.

"That's a pretty beautiful bike you have. Very nice craftsmanship. An amazing piece of machinery, I must say... How does it handle in the turns?" Claymore enamored with the speederbike, and walks around to see all sides of it.

"Well enough?" he asked, raising a brow as he watched the man circling his property. It was sleek, it was new, and it was clearly the type of speeder-bike that only money, obscene amounts of money, could afford. "You like my bike?" he asked.

"Yes, I do. I've wrenched on my fair share of them as a racing mechanic. I don't deal with the luxury stuff much other than fixing security systems and such. But, I can make them go faster. Claymore Frost, how do you do?" He stopped circle the bike talk.

"Tybalt Pokosta," he returned. Shifting off of his bike and looking back at Claymore. Examining the man, how he carried himself. "You don't look the average mechanic?"

"Well, most Mandalorians that leave the confines of the planet are generally bounty hunters and mercenaries for hire that you would come across, but I enjoy working on racing machines. I do a little racing myself, but love making them winners. It's a rush when my bike or pod wins. I just can't get enough."

Pokosta thought for a moment, "Do you have a gun?" he asked with a grin.

"I'm a Mandalorian, guns are part of my religion."

"Can I see yours?" he asked, the grin growing and holding out a hand. "You let me see your gun, I'll let you see my bike, fair?"

"I really shouldn't, but..." he pulls his pistol out and takes the clip out and puts the clip in the holster. Then presents his CDEF Blaster Pistol to Tybalt.

"Excellent," he says, taking it into his hand with an amused grin. "Feel free," he stepped away from his bike as he examined the blaster, turned it over, tried taking it apart.

"Just don't break something." He sits down on the bike seat to see the gauge cluster.

"I'll break whatever I like, thank you," he said, working at the blaster. What Clay would find with the bike is that it was a very standard affair for a luxury craft of it's type. Straight off the lot, more or less. Might have even been purchased today as far as the maintenance on it is concerned.

"Really nice bike you got there." He gets off the bike. "If you want to mod it, I'll around." as he grads he blaster.

Tybalt swings it around on his finger, and hands it off to Clay as it comes to a stop with the handle facing him. "Sure, probably won't, but sure."

Clay pulls the clip back in the blaster and hostlers it. "So, someone sick?"

"Something like that, friend of my fathers friend or something or some such. Poor bastard got beat real bad by some rather uh.." he made a jabbing motion, "kinda individuals, you know. Hyped? Well, not that I think the scumbag didn't deserve it. Not sure many would agree with me on that though."

"Ah, yeah, I thought you might be casing the hospital or something."

"Casing the hospital?" he asked, furrowing his brow. "What's that even mean?"

"It's doing researching things times of shift change, and like long it would take to get an objective, how long it will take to get the objective done, and time it will take to get out."