"De lady, she knows, hey?" Cheese spun in his chair, fingers flying across buttons and dancing across the control keyboard. Without any apparent shift in rhythm, he tossed a datacord to Andy. "Watsay you makes de data dump? De Cheese, he tickles her up and sees if she sing. We gots us a good tune, we takes to de airs." Louder. "Heyzee, Mouse, puts us a movin’ and finds us a line to de sats."