Angel was not paying attention to the radio chatter, she was paying attention to Bryn, scrutinizing the scantily dressed mortal with an interest that clearly went beyond a desire to make sure she started the race on time. Mari probably wouldn't want to let her play with her, but it would be worth asking later; after she won. When Marijuana posed his question over the radio, Angel merely grinned and tightened her gloved grip on her brand new car's steering wheel. She revved the engine twice, let out a hyena-like laugh, flickered her eyes over Bryn's ample exposed legs, and then floored her gas pedal with one impossibly high heel. Her car's tires let out a squeal of protest, but the vehicle shot forward like a rocket, leaving behind a faint scent of burnt rubber and exhaust. She surged forward, beyond Wes but not quite catching up to Marijuana, just close enough to tap his bumper.