I don’t care if the runner knows I’m slotted off, priyatel. It’s me who’s bothered. Argent was yanking my chain to make a point, feeding me a line that matched perfectly with my preconception of shadowrunners, the one I’ve picked up from cop talk and what I heard in the Academy ... and, yes, that I’d probably sucked up from the fragging trideo. Fragging Argent knew that, and decided to make me eat my cherished ideas. By playing perfectly in synch with them, then doing a high-speed one-eighty and taking off in the opposite direction. And of course what I’m supposed to learn from this is that shadowrunners aren’t the mercenary, empty-hearted slots I always believed them to be. I hate being proved wrong even at the best of times, and definitely not by some holier-than-thou scumbag like Argent.