Sven's

Svenny and the pig sure like to talk. I keep my mouth shut and sip my water -- water? Seriously? -- trying to get a feel for this place. Haven't slept in almost 48 hours. Between the phone calls setting up today's little rendezvous, severing old ties, then driving halfway across the country to get here, I've been a busy boy. Now I'm here and the place is dead. Where's the action? Introduce me to someone, Fitz. Now! Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you? Naughty girl.

Speaking of which, I spy a lady coming in the door, soaked of course. Traveling without an umbrella in this weather? Not too bright, is she. When you look like that, you ain't gotta be. And half the bar spots her too. How could they not? Whatever. She's not that great. Speak for yourself. After officially ending the sausage party, she strolls over to me -- of all people -- takes a seat at the bar, and orders a light beer. Doesn't glance at me once, but I know what's on her mind. The same thing on any lady's mind: yours truly.

I finish off my glass of water, downing it like a shot of... umm... umm... a shot of something stronger than water. I slam the empty glass down on the bar, real manly-like, and turn to my new lady friend, giving her the ol' looksee. I got that devlish grin, the kind that you just know he's looking for trouble, and makes you wanna be with him when he finds it. I think you've already found it. Don't do it, Fitz. Don't do it. Nobody ever had fun by not doing things....

"Crazy weather we're having," I say to get her attention, then I open my umbrella over her head -- indoors, of course. "You're dripping wet. My sweet lady, sugar melts. Didn't you know?"

After I open my light beer and chose not to look out the window to see who gets my new car for me. I feel as though I’m being surveyed. I turn to the patron next to me as he slams his glass down on the counter, the way the Americans do in the movies. All the cool drinkers do it or so it seems.

"Crazy weather we're having," I say to get her attention, then I open my umbrella over her head -- indoors, of course. "You're dripping wet. My sweet lady, sugar melts. Didn't you know?"

He must think my brains are stored in my breasts the way his talking to me. I study the umbrella trying to decide if he is trying to taunt me. This guy is scary by any countries standards. I consider the me no speakie English line. I decide instead to humour the gentleman while I sit looking innocent.

I nod my head to his first words, my arrogant upbringing kicking in. Then I try to loosen up a little.

“Yes sir,” I reply to him calmly. “I was not aware that the weather in America would be this bad. I‘m a terrible traveller,” I admit.

“Yes sir,” she says to me. “I was not aware that the weather in America would be this bad. I‘m a terrible traveller."

"Sir?" I say, shutting my umbrella. "No, no, no. Just Fitz. Fitz McGee. The Great Fitz McGee." Any more adjectives you wanna throw on there, your highness? Nah, that'll do... for now. "Why am I great, you ask?" I chuckle a little; the joke's all mine and I ain't letting anybody else in on it. "If you have to ask, you'll never know."

I keep my eyes locked on hers while I'm talking, staring so hard it's almost rude. She seems a little scared. Clearly faking it; she wasn't scared when she walked in the door and everyone's eyes fell on her. "I'm new here myself. Fresh off the crazy train. A shame we came all the way here just to get dumped on." I let my eyes glide to other places and stare out the window for a little while, then come back to her. "Does it rain this much in the land of the rising sun?"

"Sir?" he says, "No, no, no. Just Fitz. Fitz McGee. The Great Fitz McGee."
I see, he has hero complex, very bad . I decide to play stupid bimbo for him. Men seem to enjoy that.

"Why am I great, you ask?" I chuckle a little; the joke's all mine and I ain't letting anybody else in on it. "If you have to ask, you'll never know."

I try to look star struck, I know my blue eyes will do the trick for me. How many Asian woman do you see who have blue eyes?

“That okay Great Fitz Mc Gee, it must be a tremendous secret.” I say playing on my Asian accent. I wouldn’t want to burst your bubble nut bag.

"I'm new here myself. Fresh off the crazy train. A shame we came all the way here just to get dumped on." The crazy train?

This term is new to me, I lean back on the bar and try to look casual. He stares to much but at least he keeps his eyes on my face.

“Crazy train…” it’s not so much a question, I simply repeat the statement bemused. “it rains no more then it does here if that‘s what you mean. our weather can be quite brisk. But I do like the rain. I can sit inside all day long and play my Cello until my wrist and arms hurt.”

I wonder if the car I asked for belongs to this man. It would be just revenge for the umbrella statement.

“That okay Great Fitz Mc Gee, it must be a tremendous secret,” she says, clearly mocking me.

No such thing as a secret. Just things you know and things you don't. If you feel like people are keeping secrets, that just means you haven't been paying enough attention. Watch closely. I kept a close eye on this Asian chick and her strange mannerisms. The phony submissiveness. The ridiculous outfit -- not that I was in any position to talk. She was an actress if ever I saw one. Today's role: play the distraction. Whatever was going down, she wasn't gonna be the one to do it.

“Crazy train…” she repeats, with more phony confusion. “It rains no more then it does here if that‘s what you mean. Our weather can be quite brisk. But I do like the rain. I can sit inside all day long and play my Cello until my wrist and arms hurt.”

"Yes, all day indoors... leaves you free to let someone else do whatever it is you need done," I say with a little smile. "And 'crazy train' is merely a figure of speech, my dear. I came not by rail but by automobile. We big American men drive big American cars. They burn big American gas and make big American noise when you start them. Vroom, vroom. Very loud."

I figured if she wants to act like a dumb foreign chick, I'll act like a dumb American guy. We'll be two dumb peas in a big dumb pod. Or has she not heard of that idiom either?

"And 'crazy train' is merely a figure of speech, my dear. I came not by rail but by automobile. We big American men drive big American cars. They burn big American gas and make big American noise when you start them. Vroom, vroom. Very loud."

I give a lazy grin, I could tell him how very passionate I am about cars, I did already tell him of my passion for the Cello. I won’t he hardly takes me seriously. I wonder why it is I am still sitting here with him.

“I see,” I say calmly. It takes a patient man's mocking to get the better of me. To hell with it if he doesn’t want to play dumb anymore I might as well say something.

“Oh American cars, the ones we all consider ‘classics’ now days.” I want to go on shame him with brands. I want to share my knowledge. I decide to go with a different line of conversation. “So what do you do for a living great Fitz McGee? I'm a Cello player by trade, however I'm between jobs right now”

“Oh American cars, the ones we all consider ‘classics’ now days,” she says. “So what do you do for a living great Fitz McGee? I'm a Cello player by trade, however I'm between jobs right now”

I was faking it at first, but now I'm smiling for real. And why not? A pretty lady with a working brain. A rare find indeed. "I would hardly consider my car a classic," I say. "Too much rust and not enough paint. But it has potential, like all things do." I was tempted to go on. Talk about what the humid southern air does to a 30 year old car. Talk about how much time I spent keeping the floorboards from falling out, among other things. But that's all water under the bridge now that I'm up here in New Av. She wouldn't care to hear about the things I do behind closed doors. Garage doors.

"I eat, sleep and breathe for a living," I say. "The same thing every other carbon-based lifeform does. I think you mean to ask how I make money. Big American dollars. I would answer if I knew, but it seems to just come to me. Grows on trees, they say, but I'm sure tree-growing is tougher than whatever it is I do. I've never worked a day in my life."

"But enough about me. How's that cello treating you?" Didn't really feel like talkin' music, but she hadn't given me much else to go on. You could always bring up the weather again. Oh, how cliche. "What does an out of work cello player do to make ends meet?"

"I would hardly consider my car a classic," he tells me. "Too much rust and not enough paint. But it has potential, like all things do."

I study him a little disappointed he feels that way about cars. Though the more important matter is what is the car and what’s it packing under the hood?

"The same thing every other carbon-based life form does I eat, sleep and breathe for a living. I think you mean to ask how I make money. Big American dollars. I would answer if I knew, but it seems to just come to me. Grows on trees, they say, but I'm sure tree-growing is tougher than whatever it is I do. I've never worked a day in my life." He says after his done telling me little tidbits about the car.

I laugh at his taunting comments, towards me. This one is very entertaining I can only wish for the wit he has. But I was not from that branch or even the same tree. So he’s a mooch? The type that’ll feed off a person or the lucky type that just has things fall in his lap.

"What does an out of work cello player do to make ends meet?" he asks me. Mm nicely played now what for a reply.

“Oh this and that, I guess you could call me a gambler without a casino. Sometimes I get lucky and sometimes I end out worse then I was to start with. I rather enjoy that though, it‘s the thrill of the ride…”

I think to tell him I can always turn to my father for money. I don’t want to sound uppity or like I have the life where I have more cash then brains. It’s true, but I don’t like putting a damper on my personality.

I’m starting to like this place it feels less intimidating and more inviting. I look towards the mirror on the bar as Isaac comes in casual like, just a glance so not to alert anyone, I make it look like I'm admiring myself. Isaac, stays well away from me.

“Oh this and that, I guess you could call me a gambler without a casino," she says. "Sometimes I get lucky and sometimes I end out worse then I was to start with. I rather enjoy that though, it‘s the thrill of the ride…”

Gambler without a casino? "Lady Luck is one dame I would never put my money on, though I have no qualms with accepting her donations. I like to leave the door open, so opportuniy doesn't have to knock."

Here we were, dodging each other's questions when we should be enjoying ourselves. Hadn't even gotten her name yet, but she finally seemed to loosen up a bit. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't getting a kick out of this too. And right when I thought it couldn't get any better, an Asian guy walks in the door. I almost laughed out loud. I havn't been in Avarus long, but from what I've seen so far, this place ain't exactly swarming with Asians. Was I not supposed to notice her buddy come inside and take a seat, well away from us both? C'mon, do I look stupid? Sometimes.

Well, if her accomplices are showing up, that means whatever they're doing is either finished or about to begin. Right on queue, my cell phone vibrates. "Excuse me," I say and take it out. It's not a call, just an automated text message. I read it and burst out laughing. "I just got a funny message," I casually say to her.

They said I was crazy when I installed a potentiometer in my car and linked it to my cell phone; it detects any movement of the vehicle and sends me a message. I intended it to notify me if my car gets towed or hit while I'm away, but it works just as well for detecting thieves. The bar must be more soundproof than I thought; I figured I would've heard something. To make a long story short, my car is driving away, I'm not in it, and it's telling me so.

Well, we're going to have to do something about that. I glance around. Sven and the cop don't seem to be paying us any mind. Good. I'm not trying to get her into too much trouble. The vigilantes would tear her apart and the cop... don't even get me started on cops. I check out the GPS on my phone. It hasn't gotten far -- only a few blocks, so I show it to the Japanese girl, to see if this rings any bells. "Can you believe this? I let a friend borrow my car and he's taking it for a joyride," I say jokingly. "Just can't trust some people, I guess."

I listen in on any and all conversations, keeping quiet to myself, sipping at my drink. An Asian girl walks in, beautiful in all ways, but beauty has its deceptions. That guy Fitz gets into a conversation, saying the most ridiculous things, I wonder if he's playing dumb, or if he's really that much of an idiot, maybe both?

Their conversation goes on for a while, I notice that the girl also seems to be playing dumb, possibly hiding something worthwhile, but under all that, she smart. An Asian man soon walks in, far away from the group. Its quite obvious that they knew each other, you don't see many Asians around these parts, and something was up. It doesn't really matter, so long as it doesn't concern me, I don't care.

I take another sip of my drink, look over to the cop next to me,

"A cop, is that right? You don't seem like the cop type to me, you seem fit for something else."

The conversation had started very abruptly perhaps he just wanted to get involved. Felt I was getting all Sven's atttention even if it was more for the safety of the joint than anything else. "If I don't seem the type some would say that makes me perfect for the job." I pause for a second to let him ponder the thought before carrying on out of interest. "So then what do you think I suit then? What job do you think fits me?"

For a place that doesn't get many new people it sure seemed crowded enough. "Don't spose Sven's been running an advertisement campaign do you? At this rate all us newbies are gonna scare off the regulars." I wasn't used to seeing your average bar this busy in the morning let alone a haunt for vigilantees. Something happening in New Avarus I didn't know about it didn't strike me as somewhere likely to have many tourist atractions and I hadn't seen any thing been flagged up about notable criminals moving into town or a new recruiting agency or so on.

I drain the final remnants of my whiskey but don't instantly order one. Best I don't get wasted before dinner and whiskey was one of those drinks that had a knack for catching up on you. Sure your sober now but 30 minutes later... Lets just say I forget my age, restraint and don't mind embarassing myself a bit. I become the center of attention, talking to all the ladies. Normally my light hearted company is appreciated although some of the husbands aren't always that fond... neither was my wife when she found out about my behaviour in the morning either. Booze was an amazing social lubricant what could I say.

"If I don't seem the type some would say that makes me perfect for the job."

I chuckle at his comment, "Some would say, I was thinking that."

"So then what do you think I suit then? What job do you think fits me?"

"I see you at a desk, not out in the field, but then again," I look over to him, my eyes piercing deep, "I have been proven wrong."

"Don't spose Sven's been running an advertisement campaign do you? At this rate all us newbies are gonna scare off the regulars."

I think to myself, "just means more buiseness for us."

Potentiometer, it wasn’t promising to know that the members of this chapter would boost a car without recognising the device and disabling it. That was fine I had been given all the information I needed in good car. We could let the thief go down with the ship and fix him before the police got a decent confession out of him. Or alert Isaac of what was happening before the police got to the car. I discreetly signal with a hand under the table. Isaac takes a sideways glance and goes on drinking.

"Can you believe this? I let a friend borrow my car and he's taking it for a joyride," I say jokingly. "Just can't trust some people, I guess."
I study the mobile phone, more annoyed at my own peoples clumsy nature then him vaguely probing at me with tid bits.

“No you can‘t,” I say simply. “You know there is a saying I‘ve heard a few times…There are three things you should never lend out as a man. Your car your power tools and your wife. Can you guess the punch line great Fitz McGee.”
I look out onto the street watching the rain as it falls.

“No you can‘t,” I say simply. “You know there is a saying I‘ve heard a few times…There are three things you should never lend out as a man. Your car your power tools and your wife. Can you guess the punch line great Fitz McGee.”

"Jokes? I thought you were a gambler, not a comedian," I say, as I'm watching the little blip on the GPS. He makes a left, then a right, then another left. Definitely taking the long way to wherever he's going. "I think I've had enough of this game. Gas isn't free, you know." I scroll through a few menus in my phone, come up with a list of options, scroll past SELF DESTRUCT -- God, it was tempting -- and click on SHUT DOWN. The little blip on the GPS creeps to a halt. Unless he's got tools and a jack, he won't be getting that car running again. I hold the magic key.

"You see, I don't believe in gambling," I say as I get up from my spot at the bar. "Leave nothing to chance. Always come prepared." I tip my hat to her and start moving toward the door. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go see a man about a horse. Be back in a moment, my dear. Try not to weep in my absence."

With that little farewell, I casually stroll out the door with my hands buried in my pockets. I know she's watching. She can't help herself; the Fitz is in full effect. Any less of a woman would have swooned by now, but she's better than that. I left my umbrella at the bar, so she'd have something to remember me by; something to coddle until I return. This shouldn't take more than ten minutes or so. The car is only a few blocks away. As long as I don't run into any trouble...

I step out into the pouring rain and head down the street on foot, following the little GPS screen on my phone. My other hand is in my coat, feeling the smooth outline of my sweet Daisy, the best handgun ever made. I thumb the safety off and wrap my finger 'round the trigger. "Someone tried to kidnap your sister, Daisy. That wasn't very nice of them." I'll have to have a few words with them, then. Daisy spoke to me plenty, but to others she only said one word: "boom." People usually got very quiet after Daisy spoke.

"You see, I don't believe in gambling," I say as I get up from my spot at the bar. "Leave nothing to chance. Always come prepared. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go see a man about a horse. Be back in a moment, my dear. Try not to weep in my absence." He walks away leaving me thoughtful.

So these are my first hours in America and I fail to control a situation. My father would be truly disappointed. I don’t have a power over people like he does. My power is in machines. I really wanted that 79 it would have been my first car in America. I wonder how well I will do over here, if I fail on something so basic.

I chance a quick look at Isaac. I can’t decide if he is bothered with turn of events. Or if he worries what I will do to him for it. I lower my head and study my beer. I stretch and decide I should wait for The Great Fitz Magee’s return. He makes an interesting study, but I don’t think he is your stereotypical American.

I fix my tie before entering this God-forsaken, rundown establishment. Sven's, they call it. Doesn't look like police frequent this place, which makes me believe their not too far away. No bouncer at the door, I like it already. In time of a crisis, I reckon the bartender has a way of handling his own affairs just fine. I can't fathom any high-class traffic pulling over in this sh*thole. Just the way it needs to be.

As I open the door, I look inside and see there were more attendants than I originally guessed. Perhaps this city has that many people down on their luck. Or maybe they're intentionally here of all places, which raises a question. Why? I don't expect my curiosity to be satisfied in the first thirty minutes of drinking here, but that would make my trip easier. All the more reason I have the suspicion of not getting the answers I seek so quickly.

"Jack and Coke, if you will," I tell the bartender.

As I give the man a thorough look, I can smell his confidence from a mile away. Excuse me, that was piss in the corner. Foul stench. I fish in my pockets to collect the fee for slowly killing myself. I give him seven dollars, no way should Jack be much over six at the most.

The bartender fixes my sauce and thanks me. Turns out I judged correctly. I look beside me, and I see... an Asian woman with blue eyes? Can't be. I have to get a better look. I move closer to her and gaze into her eyes, and yes, they were really blue. Highly above average to me. I already hadn't really seen a woman in so long, and when I do, it's this. God's either really great, or really cruel. We'll find out soon.

"How do you do?" I ask her.

Another man approaches me, I’m amazed at how quickly a stranger will speak to a stranger in this place. There is no snobbery or arrogance, just an open interest in others.

"How do you do?" he greets me.

I swirl my glass of beer, which in all honesty I find revolting and study the man.
“Very well sir and how are you?” I reply not sure what else should be said. I look down at the umbrella the Great Fitz Magee left me then back to the gentleman. “Though I can‘t say much for the weather.” I keep my gaze and voice steady and open. My father does this with great experience. It’s something I still sometimes fail at.

She examines me before answering. That much is to be expected. Why should she freely open up to a stranger? Especially a stranger like myself. I know all too well I have the look of an extremely dangerous man. That's because I am indeed an extremely dangerous man.

“Very well sir and how are you?”

"I'm getting there," I respond.

She looks over to her umbrella. Her gaze at the inanimate object was a long thoughtful one. Why was she staring at it now? Was she planning to hit me with it? Looks like I'll have to keep my eyes glued to this one.

“Though I can‘t say much for the weather.”

"True, the weather says plenty on its own behalf."

I shake off the beads of water my overcoat gathered, careful not to flick any in the lady's direction. Afterward, I take it off and place it on the stool before sitting down to begin enjoying the Jack and Coke which was far more Jack than Coke. It's as if that bartender read my mind.

"Forgive my manners, miss. Solomon King," I say before extending my hand to finish making her acquaintance.

"Forgive my manners, miss. Solomon King," I say before extending my hand to finish making her acquaintance.

My fathers arrogance seems to get the better of me again and I almost decline his hand. Then instead I take it as is the fashion here and shake it.

“Harmony Lee Braska,” I reply. I normally don’t like to give out names when first meeting a person, however no one here knows of me.

I study the scarring to his eye and wonder what might have caused it. I feel a little awkward sitting with this man his not baiting me onwards like The Great Fitz Magee. I feel I should be polite and speak with this man but I’m hardly sure what to say. My mind goes back to the idiot who failed to get my 79, I wonder if he got out of the car and yet again what type of people Isaac and the crew have been hiring.

“This is a very quiet place,” I say. “Tell me Solomon King san. How long have you been here?”

I held my hand out longer than usually necessary when meeting a person. She could be fresh off the boat. Poor dear, she has to be between a rock and a hard place. In New Avarus, who could tell one form the other? I empathize with her, though she doesn't appear to be a damsel in distress. In fact, I feel a slight shiver going down my spine the more I speak with her. If only she knew what that does to me, she might stop talking to me altogether. Finally she takes my hand. She trusts me enough.

“Harmony Lee Braska,” she replied.

Good girl, I don't bite. I giver her a grin and a nod. Now what? She looking intensely into my face. Oh, that's right. I forgot about my scar tissue. It's a shame my shades don't efficiently cover this gross imperfection. I still don't think she believes me to be bad. I'm not, I've just done bad things. Things she doesn't know about. Now she has my mind going all over. Say something, sweetie.

“This is a very quiet place,” she says.

"Well, it's morning yet. I deduce that we might not see many more people here until night time. Seems we'll have to make due with each other for now."

“Tell me Solomon King san. How long have you been here?”

"I assume you mean New Avarus. I've been here for a couple weeks on business. How long have the NAC'ers enjoyed you?"

"I assume you mean New Avarus. I've been here for a couple weeks on business. How long have the NAC'ers enjoyed you?"

I smile, it seems as though he might just have come from the same social level as I.

“Just today,” I reply. The beer in my hand is now warm and I opt for something a little less extravagant. American beer is awful, I ask for some water and the bar tender passes me a glass. I look at in disdain, dirty fingerprints.

“I‘m from Japan.” I go to mention the weather again and close my mouth. It’s hardly interesting enough to note a second time. “I‘ve been seeing the sights, quite interesting I muse. I guess I can‘t holiday forever however. I‘m a Cellist I‘ll have to look for a little work.”

It was too easy. I don't like easy things. I was looking for a challenge, or at least an adventure, but easy ain't so bad once in a while. I straighten up my hat and decide to leave the gun out of this. Aww, c'mon. Pleeease. No. I can handle him myself, it's just one guy. The carjacker -- let's call him Jack -- is on his cell phone, across the street, probably calling his boys to bring a tow truck. The car had run up on the curb and was left there with the hazard flashers on. If I wanted, I could just jump in it and go and never have to see that s**t head again. But where's the fun in that?

I stroll over to 'Jack', walking up with my hands in my pockets. I caught the last snippets of his conversation: "...yeah it just shut off on me. It's no big deal. We can handle this. The Vagrants are movin' up in this town, man. Bring the truck and we'll haul this thing in, no problem. We run these streets... Wait, wait, hold on, there's a guy comin'." He turns to face me. "What the f**k you want?" he says.

"Nothin'," I say with a shrug. I still got my hands in my pockets and I can tell it's making him paranoid. Of course it is. That's why I'm doing it. There's no telling what I'm packing.

"f**k off," he says, "I'm tryin' to talk here."

"That makes two of us," I say.

"If you know what's good for ya, you'll step off, pal."

"I intend to drive off," I say to him, dropping the nice guy act. "And I suggest you watch your tone, Jack. At the moment, I'm contemplating which part of your anatomy I'll chop off and force-feed to you and which part I'll mail to your mother in a heart-shaped box." He went for something in his pants, but I beat him to the draw. The brass knuckles connected with his jaw and he dropped the knife he'd just pulled. He staggered back and tried to come at me with a jab but found himself staring down the barrel of a .51 cal. It stopped him like a deer in headlights.

"You must be stupid, drawing a gun in broad daylight," he says, apparently missing the fact that we're on a backroad, populated with abandoned warehouses and old factories, in the pouring rain. Not a single witness for miles around. Perfect place to move a stolen car; perfect place to kill a man... if that's what I'm after.

"You must be stupid," I say. "Really, Jack, what did you expect to get for a '79 Camaro?" He didn't expect to get knocked the f**k out. They're a dime a dozen at the junkyard, Jack. The only value it's got is sentimental value. If I didn't know any better, I'd say this was a personal attack; an insult, if you will. I'm hurt, Jack, and I may cry. Please, don't make me cry, Jack."

"Boss wants a '79 Cam, boss gets a '79 Cam. Nothin' personal, man." Now, he's practically begging.

"Fitz wants to blow Jack's head off, Fitz blows Jack's head off... nothin' personal, man." I let that sink in for a moment, then I take the gun off his dome. I won't say I trust the guy, but I know he's not stupid enough to try to pull a fast one. He ain't got the hand speed for it. "Listen, Jack, it's raining. I'm tired. You're tired. And my momma always told me if you ain't got anything nice to say, don't say anything at all... so I think it best we part ways."

"F**k off."

"Have a nice day, Jack," I say and start walking away. I keep an eye on him, over my shoulder. He doesn't go for a gun, like I thought he might, but he does start talking on that phone again. "It's Fitz McGee," I call out to him. "F, i, t, z, m, c, g, double e. All caps. Tell a friend."

Once in the car, I deactivate the SHUT OFF program and she starts right up with a satisfying purr. They'll never find where I hid the electronics, buried deep inside, tucked away somewhere between the gas tank and rear axle. It would take hours to reach it and hack the program. This is my car; woe to whomever dares touch it. And if all else fails, there's always the self detruct button. If I can't have her, no one can.

I watch Jack disappear from my rear view mirror. Within ten minutes, I'm back at Sven's, where I left a beautiful lady awaiting my return. I park the Camaro in the exact same spot, daring lightning to strike twice, then head inside, where I find my lady friend has become quite popular. Just one guy, but still... more popular than when I left.

I take a seat beside her at the bar. "How goes it?" I say, slipping into their conversation like an alligator into swamp water. Don't mind me. I don't bite.

“I‘m from Japan.”

Interesting.

“I‘ve been seeing the sights, quite interesting I muse. I guess I can‘t holiday forever however. I‘m a Cellist I‘ll have to look for a little work.”

I cock an eyebrow at her. A job? In New Avarus? And she's a cellist, no less. Last I checked, her profession wasn't highly demanded in this town. Maybe she's just passing through.

"Plan to stay in New Avarus long?" I ask her just to be sure.

"Plan to stay in New Avarus long?" he asks me. He seems to be bemused. As if he doubts my chances. I’m smiling he’ll see being a ‘cellist’ is very profitable indeed. Especially with a certain type of side employment and daddy to make sure I never fall down. And I won’t fall down a good daughter would never shame her father like that.

“Of course,” I say with a simple shrug.

I turn to The Great Fitz Magee, who has no doubt returned from salvaging his car.

"How goes it?" he says as though nothing at all has happened. I widen my eyes in curiosity.

“Did you get your car back from your friend? I hope it‘s alright.” Transportation is such a necessity these days.

I’m all for hot wheels. I can’t wait to get my hands on that simple one brain cell lunatic who couldn’t steal a run down car. I’m very disappointed. I try to decide whether I’ll simply lecture him on the fears of failing my father. Or if I should take a bolt cutter to his toes and feed them to a colony of ants.

I didn't notice the oddly attired man at first. He quite casually made his way into the conversation as if he had always been there. Maybe he thought he was here the whole time. With these NAC residents I've been seeing, his kind is nearly norm to me now.

I overheard Harmony asking him if he got his car back from his friend. Then I start thinking to myself, "This guy is weird. Are you sure he didn't make up the friend that borrowed the car?" I digress. It's not really my business, so I chose to remain silent about the car.

On the other hand, when I look back at Harmony, she had an odd facial expression. I couldn't tell if I thought she seemed upset or disappointed. Was she easily turned on by cars? Again, I'm letting my mind go too far without the rest of me. That's a dangerous avenue to stroll down.