A man in his mid-twenties enters the hall, briefcase in hand, confused expression somewhat masked by a pair of sunglasses. Where the hell did the rest of the band go? He'll have to think about this. He's glad, at least, that he's got his briefcase and harmonica, and that there doesn't appear to be a force of cops waiting for him
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The cops don't much like the way I drive, either.
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You're a musician? D'you know 'Nobody's Fault But Mine' by any chance? Y'know, Dave Mason?
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That'd be all right with me. I mean, I don't really know what it is, exactly, but figure you know what you're talking about.
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So about that aerosol can. What's it for, and how'd it get empty, pray tell?
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Depends on which can. Had a number of 'em and, well... *looks around, searching for cops* Used most in the tires, a few for general explosions. We needed to do it, you know, to get away. *grins slightly* It's always worth the time taken to be well prepared.
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"Nice threads."
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"Same to you, Sir."
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"I can appreciate a man with style. Is that your usual look?"
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As with everything else here, Elwood isn't certain of what to make of this man.
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