Dallen pocketed the map and paid the whore.  

"Easiest caps I've ever made, mister!" she told him.  "Sure you still don't wanna...?"

[color=steelblue] "I'm sure," [/color] Dallen said.

"...whatever, queer!" 

He continued to follow Breckinridge into the slums of the city.  When the lights and the people were a good distance away, he walked out before the man.  His hand stayed close to his holstered firearm, but he remained relaxed and calm.  

[color=steelblue] "Breckinridge," [/color] he said.  [color=steelblue] "We need to talk." [/color]  

Dallen reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a pack of smokes.  After lighting one up for himself, he offered quickly to Breckinridge.  The two stood facing one another in the middle of a street, surrounded by decay and broken down buildings.  A gust of wind blew by, pushing some tumbleweed past them.  

[color=steelblue] "I just want information.  I know you've been asking around about the Pagans, why?  Who's giving the orders to take them out?" [/color]