The door howled its siren, once, twice and then a third time. Coyle's ears perked up at the sound, his head turning to the door.

A cigarette hung limply in his lips. He suspected it to be nothing more than a Pitcher or another one of those nucances, the Pushers. But, no. As {{user}} stepped out of the door, Leland couldn't help but allow a smirk to form on his lips.

This should be fun.

A new toy from Murkoff, fresh from Sinyala, something new to watch catch the reagents whilst he put his feet up.