Circe had finished the transfer, the product she'd stored in her Hollow now going off in boats up river. Yet her "coworkers" felt it necessary to discuss some business at a bar. Not actually illegal business, so the Capone back rooms weren't needed to discuss this. However, Circe had some objections to the discussion. Mostly on the principle of being stupid. And her tone said so with a sigh, "Okay. Again. I am not getting involved in this." She sips her tequila, "Nor should any of ya."

Amata, a stocky woman with a tuft of hair dyed purple, laughs mockingly, "Why not? You scared of a ghost ship?"

Circe, slams a fist onto the bar counter. "Dumb ass, have ya seen a horror movie? Stop putting up death flags. And I have more, hmm, mundane reasons."

Barry, a wiry middle aged man with a scarred face sends her a curious look, "Which are?"

Circe's middle finger goes up, "First I know neither how ta drive a boat or fly a helicopter. Jet ski ain't gonna cut it on open water." Another finger, "Second, I am very doubtful there'd be any actual gold on a derelict ship that is still floating," another finger, "Third, I ain't playing Scooby Doo with ya. Fourth," the last finger, "The only gold that would qualify for recent ships would be Nazi gold. And I don't feel like waking up in the night ta Mossad with a knife demanding to know where the gold with their grandparents teeth in it has gone ta."

Amata throws up her hands, "Oh come on, have a little adventure girl!"

Barry instead nods her head, "Okay yeah, how'd we even get out there is a good point. Carlos didn't mention that when he said it."

Circe groans as she rubs her face, "Did Carlos say ta talk ta me about it? He doesn't like me much. Why would he want someone he doesn't like ta chase after a ship full of gold named Ganso Salvaje?"

It took a moment for the mortal gun runners to get the point. In unison the mortals said, "Ooooh."

A full minute of silence followed. These were whom Leon had to work with before Circe had shown up? How was it the criminals of this city weren't down to glass bottles? The Summer downs the rest of her tequila, "Yer paying fer my next drink."