You slide the bag across the table, the hooded figure opposite you peers inside. “Where the hell did you find this?!”
“I stole it from the raccoon haunting the local trash drums, _where the fuck do you think?!_ Obviously the boss’s office,” I sneer at him, drumming my fingers on the sticky surface of _Rick’s Diner’_s finest table as I lean back in the booth.
The hooded figure—_I really am start...
