"That's not the way it happens here, hoa ," he said firmly. "Not the way I hear it, at least .. . and keep in mind this is all secondhand; I'm a driver, not a runner, okay?" He paused, ordering his thoughts. "The way I hear it, in the islands it's personal relationships that matter more than a brag-sheet, even more than a street rep. People deal with people they know personally, people they've come to trust. Some malihini newcomer to the islands rolls up with a brag-sheet as long as your fragging leg—'I shaved Fuchi ice, I blew away a division of Azzie hard-men, I took Dunkelzahn in a con game'—and nobody's going to touch him, 'cause he's an unknown quantity, see? The kalepa —the fixers—they're going to go with the runners they know, the ones they've dealt with personally before . . . even if it means going with some hawawa who's not as good as the newcomer. At least the kalepa knows exactly what to expect."