"Aw yeah, suuure." He grumbled to himself. "I don' see what her problem is. Take her truck, follow her plan!" He rolled his eyes. The F.O.W.L. agent had spent the last fifteen minutes listening to everything Gabriel had to say. It had been a royal pain in the tailfeathers to say the least. To his dismay, Steelbeak discovered that she considered herself the head of this particular operation.

On top of all that, he'd had to wait for her to change. The last time he'd waited for any girl to change was years before he'd joined F.O.W.L. And he would make an exception for his sister any day of the year. Family came first, for an Italian.

He didn't have long to let his aggravation stew, however, because a black and silver Humwee pulled up in front of him, its speakers blaring. Steelbeak almost gagged as he recognized one of those tunes that the radio played at least three times hourly. Which is why I don't lissen to da radio, he thought, getting in the vehicle. Instinctively, he reached to turn the volume down and got his hand promptly smacked aside.

"Don't ever touch my radio again!" Gabriel hollered over the music. "My ride, my radio, my music."

"Yeah, an' my migraine." Steelbeak grimaced.

"What?" She yelled. "I can't hear you!"

"I said," Steelbeak snapped, swiftly turning the radio down before his partner could do anything. "What's our plan again?"

"Oh. I told you, we're going to the Goldeneye base to make that phone call. And we move from there, depending on if our prospective contact cooperates . . . and what he wants to do." Gabriel replied, driving out of the garage and turning the radio up once more.