[h3] Dirk Garther [/h3]

	Well shite. He'd thought he'd been rather inconspicuous. What sorta folk assumed a man having a smoke outside what was presumably his own home was eavesdropping on anyone? The one who spoke gave off gangster vibes, and Dirk bit into his cigar angrily at his queries. Where did this Bruno get off? Did he have a death wish or something? Dirk was no fool, these boys were clearly newly aquatinted, which meant this loud mouth wasn't rolling with his usual possy. Yet here he came, posturing at Dirk like a bristlin an spittin alley cat. Dirk rolled his eyes. Gangsters. Where did they get all this self assured pride. Whatever. Just another goon in the end. 

	Dirk just stared at the approaching silhouettes. What did he care? Far as these guys knew he was just a mild mannered local who liked smoking a big one in the rain. Let em get a bit closer. See what he could tell about em in a couple a minutes. Then he'd decide what he'd do with em.