Beat didn't waste any time either. He grabbed the pink jacket with the fur lined hood for his sister, slung it over his shoulder and headed out into the plaza ahead of Gene. Once outside, he put the skateboard down, the wheels clacking against the stone.

"Dude, you got a jacket on. Whatchu worryin' 'bout cold for?" Not that Beat ever had to worry. He wasn't sure if someone like him could even catch a cold anymore. He had to be alive for that and technically he was neither alive or dead - it'd certainly explain his relatively good health here. "'Sides, stop worryin'. We got skatin' to do. Look, you climb up on the board and we'll see 'bout you gettin' yo' balance, aight?"