Vechkov limps in, a crinkled cigarette tucked between two pudgy fingers. "Anyone got a light?" Jaxx, napping in a chair, is blissfully unaware of this. N'Sha-El is, at present, busy programming a circuitry chip. She glances up, startled. And then her jaw just /drops/. She rises half to her feet, face draining of its color. "V...Vech?" she whispers, her voice a gasp. She clutches at Jaxx's shoulder. Hard. Vechkov glances back over his shoulder, then turns his beady eyes back toward Sha, smiling with the wrinkles around his eyes. "You were expecting maybe the Good Humor man?" MEWL. Purrr. MEEEW.