Goa peers over the edge of Slipstream's nosecone, in mid-flight over the freeway. "Remind me why I'm not on your routes again?" As much as he tries to hide it in his tone, he still digs his heels in a little when he looks down. But it /was/ a nice change not being way out on the border. "What the..." His optics zoom in on a car with ... darting patterns that look more natural than they ought to. He chuckles to himself knowingly. Then he keys his radio, on a private frequency... "No one ever teach you not to run from turbo raptors?" Goa radios, "I don't."