[She takes it without commentary, scrolling back through the feed and feeling out what security it seems to provide, however thin. The virus would at least stall for time, that much she's sure of.
Still, even without visual confirmation, there's certainty in the idea that someone— somewhere in that tightly knit circle of names that's invested both time and money into Guillermo's greedy hands— is going to want to push back.
And there aren't that many rocks to overturn in Dorado.
What if they buy out Los Muertos? What if they secure an association with some of her people? Revolution and a steady flow of excitement are all most of them need to get by, but there's no denying how easy it would be to make an argument that sticks with one or two of them at least.
Gabe, too, maybe.
He needed security. Something to stand between himself and whatever it was he'd been running from. For the moment, they're enough— in a month? Ten? LumériCo's friends could do better.
She doubts he realizes it yet. He always was slower on the uptake.]
Traigame una chela, La Muerte. If you're not drinking it, I will. [Whether he agrees to or not, the moment she's finished pulling data from the card is when she snaps it in half without reverence or concern, spattering the edge of her desk in bits of broken plastic. It's a process repeated a second later with the first drive itself: secure, save, destroy.]
no subject
Still, even without visual confirmation, there's certainty in the idea that someone— somewhere in that tightly knit circle of names that's invested both time and money into Guillermo's greedy hands— is going to want to push back.
And there aren't that many rocks to overturn in Dorado.
What if they buy out Los Muertos? What if they secure an association with some of her people? Revolution and a steady flow of excitement are all most of them need to get by, but there's no denying how easy it would be to make an argument that sticks with one or two of them at least.
Gabe, too, maybe.
He needed security. Something to stand between himself and whatever it was he'd been running from. For the moment, they're enough— in a month? Ten? LumériCo's friends could do better.
She doubts he realizes it yet. He always was slower on the uptake.]
Traigame una chela, La Muerte. If you're not drinking it, I will. [Whether he agrees to or not, the moment she's finished pulling data from the card is when she snaps it in half without reverence or concern, spattering the edge of her desk in bits of broken plastic. It's a process repeated a second later with the first drive itself: secure, save, destroy.]