A matte-black '48 Ford Americar pulled up loudly in front of the Caina, and two oversized specimens of street muscle got out. Chase didn't know them personally, but he was more than familiar with their type. Slip them some cash and they were more than willing to act as insurance against, or for, a violent incident at whatever event you might have planned. The driver, wearing mock vintage Euro-Wars battle dress was finishing off a rude joke about trolls and sisters as they got out. His ork partner, similarly garbed but with more street clothes mixed in, seemed amused and appreciative. Neither noticed, or cared, about Chase watching from across the street. They pocketed their sunglasses and entered the building. Chase saw no evidence of weapons, but their field jackets had ample room for carrying light or medium-sized pistols. The odds of them packing anything cybernetic was low.