In an orange jumpsuit the man spoke into a (i)recorder(i). Pulled up from the seat in shackles.
"What's in the pod?" One man asked another.
"I dunno."
"Maybe the equipment he stole," an agent was handed a file by an assistant.
"What's going on here?"
"Things went screwy."
"When?"
"When some of the cities went fully self-serve."
"On what?"
"Oh, you know, parking, cab rides, gambling, movie making, torture."
"Yeah, but public's still public, right?!"
"Depends on whom you aks."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"That's the fifth person to walk in here with a loaded firearm. Out and ready to use."
"Are you gonna kill yourself again?"
The lady picked up a desk phone, dialed, re-picked up the handgun and absent-mindedly waved it around as she explained for the third time that she understood things had changed but a schedule is a schedule."
A man smushed down the dial tone button and reached for the receiver, "Unless," he said, then started whispering in her ear. The woman just about melted into his arms and let go of the gun as he slide his hand up her bare-skinned arm. "I think that's the better way to spend the rest of our visit here in California."
The man put the gun in his baja shorts pocket and it fell on the floor. He whispered to the woman again and bent to pick up the gun. Put it in his waistband. "A real seedy one."
(i)Cha, cha, cha,(i) the woman kicked up a leg as they left the room.
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