"You make a fair point," [i]Jason responded, popping the cap on his vodka off with one of the chinks on his armour -- beneath his helmet, somewhere. Quickly, he poured the vodka into both of his glasses, passing one over to Marcus, after.[/i] "Name's Jason, by the way." [i]He lazily squatted down on the floor as well, placing his shot glass and bottle of booze down to his right. Both of his hands disappeared into his magic satchel, pulling out a car battery, a toaster oven, and a plastic package filled with marinated chicken tenders -- the type you just heat up. Seemed he held all kinds of shit in that bag of his. In a few moments, the Russian had the toaster oven powered on and was baking himself four chicken tendies, the machine humming lightly. Soon after, his helmet came off, nonchalantly sat aside.[/i]