"Is it bad that I could use a drink, too?" Myitt murmurs, closing down the computer and punching something into her personal communicator. "Open exterior hatch, please, computer. Ramp extension."
The doorway in the Skimmer's cabin melts open again. From outside it appears to have opened in thin air, a foot or so off the ground. A ramp hisses out of its invisible threshold and extends to the ground.
She turns back to the pool room with a sigh. "I have the soldering tools, just need the scrap metal. I wonder where that big floating grey thing went, he seemed helpful in a pinch with this sort of stuff."
Her link crackles and an excited male voice answers.
"-chhk-Oh my God. Shh, shh, will you guys be quiet..." There's a pause, and Myitt frowns down at the little black square in her hand. "...sorry," the voice continues, almost whispering, "the guys don't know anything about this, I had to tell them it was a police scanner. Can you imagine how hard it is to keep this from them?" The man, or young man, is almost squealing with concealed glee.
"Yeah, I'm sure it's terrible, Matthew," says Myitt. "Listen, I uh, I need you to do something for me."
There's a bit of silence on the other end.
"Hello?" says Myitt.
"No, I'm here," says Matthew. "It's something bad, isn't it? Something dangerous."
"I just need you to--"
"No, you wouldn't be calling me unless you needed me to do something reckless. Something you couldn't risk yourself."
"Will you shut up and listen to me?" Myitt snaps, running a hand through her hair. She sighs, exasperated. "I need you to drive to Roswell. The end of County Road 51, east side of town, look it up on Mapquest or something. Rent a shed or something in Roswell and bring it out there on the truck. I can pay you back for the expenses. There's going to be a meeting. Either me, or a friend of mine named either Ossanlin or Claxter will be giving you a small blue box. Someone else is going to want to buy it from you. He's going to meet you there at ten AM, the day after tomorrow." She paces, a characteristic of Tara's when she's on the phone, and especially when she's nervous. "It's going to be dangerous, yes. There will be a person with this girl who wants to meet you. She may look like her twin sister, or she may be...you know. Centaur-like."
"Okay. Okay, got it," Matthew replies, sounding worried. "I can try to call in to work on Wednesday..."
"Matthew, this is serious business," says Myitt. "I don't want anything to happen to you, so just give the woman whatever she wants. Give up the box, it's not worth a fight. It's part of our little plan, you see."
"And I'm the pawn."
"Don't think of it that way. Are you sure you can do this?"
"....Yes. Yeah. Yeah, I can. Should I contact you when it's overwith?"
"I'll be in touch with you, don't worry," says Myitt grimly. "Just please be careful. And not a word of this to your little friends, do you understand me?"
"Oh man, they'd never believe me anyway," Matthew says wearily. "I've gotta go, it's my roll. Take care of yourself. Both of you. Okay?"
"Okay, Matthew," says Myitt. She ceases the transmission and looks around. "Scrap metal. Right. Need scrap metal."