Scene Title Marlboros
Synopsis Cardinal stops by a local chop-shop to see if anyone's spotted the periwinkle van. Paydirt.
Date February 18, 2009

Car Yard

This fenced-off yard is topped with razorwire and strewn with makeshift spotlights to illuminate the various cars in the lot - half-rusted or in decent condition, a garage in the background screaming out the sounds of metal cutters as newer vehicles are stripped. It's not exactly your legal neighborhood auto lot here.

Hopefully that tip was good… gettin' tired of hunting all over the damn island for this thing.

Cardinal steps along through the gates as they're opened for him, a yellow plastic shopping back dangling from one hand and the other reaching out to clasp the hand of the weasely fellow that was waiting at the gate.

The greasy-haired man, all torn denim and tattoos, gives the hand a pump, smirking, "Oi oi, Cardinal-boy. You got somethin' for me? I don't see a car out there, maybe you're lookin' to by?

The pair walk along into the yard side by side, Cardinal's head shaking a touch. "Actually lookin' for a specific car," he observes, slanting a sidelong look to the other man, "A van, actually."

"Now, c'mon, you know better than that…" A hop up onto the rusted hood of an old corvette, the man's brows tweaking upwards, "…I don't hear nothin', I don't see nothin', and nothing comes through here. Ya dig? You know the rules, Cardinal."

As if anyone on this shit-hole island goes by the rules… hah, everyone has a price. And I know yours, boyo.

"Oh, well— " Cardinal hefts the bag up into his arms, upending it on the hood in a tumble of red-and-white cellophane-wrapped packages, a familiar logo staring up from each of the two-dozen little packages. "—and here I'd heard you were a Marlboro man. Not like you can just make a run to a convenience store 'round here."

The cigarettes are stared at for a long moment, the weasely man licking his lips before smirking back up and over to Cardinal, "…what're you lookin' for?"

"A van," Cardinal echoes, his chin jerking up towards the chop-shopper, "You couldn't fuckin' miss it. Periwinkle blue, you know, that powder-purple color?"

A widening of the man's eyes, and he barks out a laugh. "Christ, -that- ugly thing? Yeah, uh—I mean, /I/ didn't move it, you understand, but, uh, I might know who it went to." The cigarettes are stared at with longing, and then Cardinal's hand slaps a benjamin down atop the pile.

"Logan," he says quickly, reaching out to snag the bill and one of the hard packs, peeling the cellophane off with his teeth, "Guy named Logan picked it up."

Logan? Wait, couldn't be…

"Logan?" Cardinal stares at the other man, "Skinny guy, green eyes, losin' his hair?"

"Yep," the car thief grunts, tucking a cigarette between his lips and lighting it up, "That's him. I didn't tell you shit, an' you don't know me, Cardinal.

Well, that's fuckin' ironic. Teo was sleeping in the Dagger last week… hah, and he never knew.

"I never know shit," Cardinal replies with a smirk—pushing up to his feet, he heads for the gates of the yard, his head shaking slowly.

Well, this oughta give Deckard a good laugh…

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