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[@Leidenschaft] 


David was impressed that Redding remembered his name, but he tried not to let his face show it. Needed to keep at least semi-professional after all, and the Pimp might take offense at the suggestion that he wouldn’t have recognised him. The big players in Reno tended to be quite...unpredictable, after all. 


“The ghoul, huh?” The bartender took a moment to ponder that, as he set about serving the Pimp his beer. 


Redding’s offer was a tempting one; so much so that it made David wonder if this was information he should really be sharing. But, then again, who was he to turn down a free shag? 


“I ain’t see no ghouls specifically, but there was this fella in a mask ‘n shit talkin’ to Mancini. Didn’t see his face, but he could quite easily have been a ghoul, I suppose.” 


[hr] 


[@Sol Grim] 


Breckinridge stood, practically motionless in the centre of the street. He took the cigarette fairly casually, igniting it with a silver lighter which he pulled out of his flowing trench coat. 


“I am.” the figure said, taking a drag from the cigarette.


“I don’t have any intention of telling you why, and I don’t suppose you’ll ever find out.” 


There was a blur of movement, and then suddenly Breckinridge was pointing a silenced pistol squarely at Dallen’s chest. 


“I doubt you can comprehend quite what you’ve stumbled upon, mutie. I’m sorry that your journey has to end here, but trust me when I say...it’s for the benefit of every American.” 


[hr] 


[@Stitches] 


Once David was done serving Redding, he turned his attention to the newcomers. The girl was prettier than most the street trash he got around here, and he was more than happy to sneak a few glances as he went over to talk to her companion. 


“What can I get ya, friends?”