“Only if it goes ass over teakettle and the moose tramples its undercarriage---moose are tall, yeah, but they're not climb-a-ladder-to-the-cab tall.” Venting through a pfff is the only thing that lets Sam stop herself from laughing aloud, since she's never been stoic, and the flash of fright off Will is answered with a second of shock.

Oh.

“'Sokay.” The adept's up out of her seat with that, dropping gracelessly into a crouch (bad leg to one side, at a right angle, almost) to help collect the coins. “Sam. Nice to meet you, Will.”

Since the change-gathering has them within arm's reach of each other, she offers a hand to shake; her right, ink all up to the elbow. They're probably a sight, here on their heels, money in hand like some bizarre deal's going down.

“When I have one big tattoo, I'm putting a big tattoo over it. They've got that ink that only shows up under blacklights, and I'm going to make the most of it.”