"Hyeek," Spinister squeaks, slapping the newspaper spread onto his face as if that'd somehow reverse Krok spotting him. After a long moment of that, the heli eventually, slowly drags the, uh, 'cover' down so that he could peer nervously over the top edge of the paper down at his Captain.

"Uhm. Dancey stuff," he whispers, because he's still kind of hiding. "Like. Like Acidstop's mixes before the Functionists sawed off his face?"